


The Pearl of the Antilles

by titania522



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Colonialism, Gen, Historical AU, Revolution, french colonies, haitian slave uprising, island beneath the sea - Freeform, s2sl - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:38:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 91,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4882345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titania522/pseuds/titania522
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Historical AU set in Saint Domingue (French Territory) in 1790, one year before the Haitian Slave Uprising.  Capitaine Peeta Mellark is the incorruptible Captain of the French Army in Le Cap, Saint Domingue.  Katniss Everdeen is the daughter of a wealthy French merchant and mulatta mother.  After the death of her parents and the dissolution of her father’s estate, Katniss survives by becoming one of the most sought after courtesans in Le Cap.  A chance encounter in a Saturday market leads to a passionate affair set against the backdrop of one of the most brutal slave uprisings in recent history.</p><p>Disclaimer:  I do not own anything related to The Hunger Games or Island Beneath the Sea.</p><p>If you are interested in my original writing, you can follow me at Sera Taíno (serataino.tumblr.com) and sign up for my mailing list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I’m Dreaming Your Body All Nude

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**Banner by[ghtlovesthg](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ghtlovesthg/pseuds/ghtlovesthg)**

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**banner by[nightlockinthecave](nightlockinthecave.tumblr.com)**

 

_I’m dreaming of your body all nude_

_a single dream breaks all bonds_

_separating man from love [...]_

 

_I build for you a town out of the dawn_

_without guards or armaments_

_in order to wait for you_

_so you can wait for me_

_so that in the end of days_

_in the smell of revolt and jasmine_

_you’ll hold on to the power you possessed from the beginning_

 

_every day I bet on a secret light that’s alive underwater_

_my muse the earth’s top_

_dancing in the sea_

 

_at night I come in to sleep in your hands_

_you teach me to speak in voodoo rhythms_

_ride a bike across the tops of clouds_

_I inhabit the words in your mouth_

_all darkened lamps light up in your hands._

 

-from _I’m Dreaming of Your Body All Nude_ by Lyonel Twouyo, translated by Jack Hirschman and Boadiba

 

**June, 1790**

When Capitaine Peeta Mellark first disembarked in Saint Domingue four years ago, it was with the well-formed opinion of one who had spent a lifetime collecting intelligence the way curators collect paintings.  He was an incorruptible man in an environment where being incorruptible was equated with being undeserving of power.  Therefore, though in possession of a sterling reputation, incisive intelligence and ruthless loyalty to the French command, he also suffered the local deficit of being of too stout a moral character.  His refusal to accept bribes also resulted in his being significantly poorer than other officers of his rank.

But Peeta Mellark did not acknowledge such peculiarities of culture and society as relevant to his happiness.  He was a man of honor and that sufficed.  His brilliant blue eyes, set in a youthful, inviting face chiseled from years of military deprivations, belied his thirty-five years and a titanian persistence in the service of completing a mission, a willingness to go to any lengths to ensure his enemy’s defeat.  In this way, he was not particularly moral but he was efficient. His inability to be swayed by ill-gotten wealth resulted in his receiving the unwavering trust of his commanding officers and enjoying a reputation for excellence. He led his regiment by example, meting out punishments and rewards with unimpassioned equanimity and in consequence, his men willingly fought and died for him.  This was a rarity on this island, fraught with the tensions of a massive slave population being trampled underfoot by the ruthless _petit blancs_ and landowners of the giant sugar plantations.  Mellark understood that France was fighting what history would deem as a losing battle.  Already, the mountains surrounding Le Cap were full of Maroons, or escaped slaves, waging guerilla war on the outlying plantations in the interior of the island.  It was only a matter of time before the rarified neighborhoods of the island’s North beaches would be engulfed in the flames of a slave revolt. However, he was sure this would not occur in his lifetime.

Despite this reality, he embraced his commission with dutiful commitment and unwavering loyalty.  He was a man without family connections to sway him from his devotion to his country and therefore never had cause to question his life’s commitment.

As was his habit, he wandered the markets each Saturday, partly to make his presence known to the populace, partly to distill from his minds the preoccupations of the week.  On this fateful Saturday, he walked the market in the shimmering, suffocating heat, nearly choking from the smell of over-ripened fruit and animal shit festering in the summer sun.  He was made doubly uncomfortable by the scratchy constraints of his uniform but the Capitaine was a man who would never dream of venturing out of his barracks with anything less than full military dress. Any man in his regiment caught doing otherwise would have to contend with a fierce reprimand and a lash or two and so he held himself to his typically high standards.  His eyes took in the cacophony of fruit stands, charlatan healers and roasting pits selling foods typical of the island – fried plantains, boiled cassava, blackened goat and skewered chicken.  There was nothing of consequence in this market and even the people who frequented the place brought little of interest to his consciousness.  Harried slaves, mulattos with airs of superiority _, petit blanc_ ladies with delicate parasols and perpetually offended nostrils – nothing drew him out.

Therefore, it was with bored indifference that he came upon a stand in which a heavily tattooed mulatto sold bows and arrows of every quality.  Mellark glanced down, fingering an arrow tipped with fine, filed obsidian, the feathers at the end of the shaft tickling his palm as his hands ghosted gently over it.  Lifting his gaze from the finely wrought artifact, he chanced to see a gloved hand running as if disembodied over a similar arrow not twenty centimeters from his.  Like iron shavings drawn to a magnet, his eyes glided over the stitching of the white gloves sprinkled with embroidered green and blue flowers that no doubt sheathed long, delicate fingers and continued to travel immodestly over the olive colored skin that appeared to be illuminated with an internal flame to a well-shaped forearm and bicep.   The fortunate owner of that lovely arm jerked back suddenly and it was then that his eyes flew up and became arrested by a pair of glowing grey, almond-shaped eyes.  Her face was small, with a proudly shaped noise, stunningly sculpted cheekbones and small, pointed chin. She’d discreetly pulled her hands to her elegant and understated silk summer dress and quickly turned to a uniformed gentleman who was most likely her companion, maybe even an officer of his own regiment.

From that first glance, Peeta Mellark knew that he would never tear that lovely creature from his soul.  Later, as he grappled for life in the haze of a fierce, wound-induced fever, he would babble to his captor that it was her eyes that had so arrested him that sweltering summer day, as if in them, he had finally found something he'd lost long ago in the time before memory and being reunited with it, could not allow it to be lost again.

In that squalid marketplace, something in his calm, controlled demeanor exploded and was replaced by a fog of aching need so dense, he forgot where he stood and instead allowed his eyes to bore into her back, caring not a whit that they were in a public place.  With a rustle of her skirts, she floated off and it was then that he observed the way others reacted to her splendid presence.  She spoke quietly, with a restrained charm, to the gentleman at her side while all eyes were held captive by her.  Her mannerisms were unpretentious and Mellark perceived that she did not fully understand the effect she had on others.

With a parched mouth and a stampeding heart, he followed behind her and her companion.  Something in their rapport gave him to understand that she was not married to the gentleman and the thought of this made his palms itch to touch her.  He followed the winding town road, elbowing others out of the way in an effort to keep up the pace of the couple against the onslaught of the sweaty, burbling crowd.  Perhaps it was his intensity or the steely determination to pursue this being but something in his physical attitude broadcasted his intent and soon his way was blocked by a tall, dark-haired woman with a lithe but powerful build.

“Get in line,” she growled, an ax that seemed too large for her body swinging dangerously from her waist.

Capitaine Mellark was brought up short by the presumptuous address of this man-woman.  She wore her dark hair tied back with a piece of leather and possessed chocolate brown eyes set in a fierce countenance.  Her finely muscled arms were covered in cheap bangles that tinkled when she moved. His practiced eye for sizing up his adversaries told him that this was not a woman to be trifled with, for though she could be considered to possess a feminine beauty, she emanated a man’s spirit for aggression and determination.   He was accustomed to delivering orders with the unmistakable expectation of obedience but he’d rarely met a woman who could deliver such edicts with equal impunity.

“What is your business?” he asked in controlled irritation.

“My business is also yours, _Capitaine_.  You are not the only one interested in my mistress, Madame Katniss Everdeen.”

He drew himself up to his full height, pushing out his broad chest. “I must see her at all costs," he insisted with an ardor bordering on desperation.

When the man-woman saw how upset he was becoming, she brought her lips to his ear and whispered, “A small tip will place you ahead of her other clients.”

In that moment, understanding overwhelmed him; the nature of the mysterious woman’s beauty, the subdued flirtation with her companion, her exposed yet restrained magnetism, the way men and women alike stared at her with awe and desire, struck him like a powerful blow to his chest.  The longing to hold this creature in his arms warred with his propriety, a battle so fierce, it was propelled throughout his body like the volley of cannon fire. His arrogance crumpled under the weight of his need.  “I will pay your fee but I must see her…” he repeated between pained breaths.  He knew that by exposing his agitation, he would triple the cost to himself in money and trouble but he had no other recourse.  Like an explosion of fireworks, all of his incorruptibility rent itself in pieces and floated down around his rigid morality like spent ashes.   He agreed to the tip and received the calling card with the address in exchange.  This is how he gambled his life at the feet of one of the most desired courtesans in all of Le Cap.

**XXXXX**

Katniss Everdeen’s life read like one of the famous bildungsromans about which the proper ladies of the day raved.  Her father married her mulatta mother in one of the intervals of legislative mercy that allowed freeborns and whites the privilege of marrying mulattos on the island.  Her father had been a prosperous merchant who’d fallen victim to the harassment of the Spanish and British pirates, finally succumbing to a Spanish raid.  His body was tossed overboard, never to be found again.  Katniss loved her father with an untainted affection that only innocent children could muster, a love born not of familiarity with the truth of a person’s character, but with the idealized vision of infantile worship.  The loss of her beloved father was such a trauma to her impressionable heart that she held her subsequent affections close to her for fear they would be so bereaved again.

As if her father’s untimely demise were not sufficient to damage the young girl’s sense of the world’s immutable security, the death of her mother soon after caused her to seal her heart away from the treachery of human affection.  Katniss’ mother could not bear the loss of her husband and, being a mulatto raised in the privilege of white women but with none of the legal protections of their class and in no possession of even the smallest business sense, descended into desperation and soon committed suicide, leaving Katniss in the care of the nuns of St. Albino with what remained of her father’s fortune.

The life of the nunnery was stifling at first, with its regimen of prayer, schooling and lady-like work and the attendant loss of all the material comforts to which her upbringing had accustomed her, but Katniss soon learned to love the sameness of each day.  It returned her to a cocoon of temporary safety not unlike the way she felt when her father was still alive and, though she eventually became one of the most dynamic and sought after women in Le Cap, she still desired in her heart an anchor to root her infamy, something about which to tether the whirlwind of fate and misfortune that struck both the wealthy and the destitute with equal indifference.  She could not have known that it would come to her eight years later dressed in a military uniform on a sweltering tropical night, lowering his anchor like a boom in the middle of her coquette’s life of flirtations, dances and sensuous delights.

Though Katniss was only ten when she first took up residence in the nunnery, she understood at the tender age what many adult women of privilege would never perceive in a lifetime.  Her father’s estate would not sustain her indefinitely and was compromised by the lack of responsible stewardship.  One year later, Madam Effie Trinket, a dear friend of her father’s in the colorful days of his youth, appeared at the nunnery to claim the waif-like girl.  It was decided, quite without consulting Katniss, that she would be released into the care of Madam Trinket.  Before she’d even experienced the first cycles of the moon, she began her tutelage under the older woman’s apprenticeship and thus began her life as a courtesan.

**XXXXX**

“Johanna, I don’t understand your mind,” Katniss complained as she prepared for the evening.  She had spent the afternoon with Lieutenant Valmont, a young, shrewd officer; entertainment that, as the decorum of their practice dictated, privileged him with the right to her bed that evening.  Lt. Valmont was agreeably handsome, albeit young and inexperienced, and it would have been no great sacrifice to give the young man his two hours of allotted pleasure.

Katniss was highly selective of her company, a freedom she possessed by virtue of her rare, extraordinary beauty, the immaculate care she took of her person and health and the reputation for possessing arts so alluring, it was said that she could make a man harden inside of her 10 times in one night without removing his organ from her body.   Truth be told, many of the fantastic rumors that circulated about her sexual arts were mostly perpetrated by her manager and protector, Johanna Mason.  It was shrewd business on both their parts, for the exaltation of the young mistress’ fame served to keep Katniss out of the syphilis-infested bordellos near the port and Johanna from laboring in the sugarcane fields.  Nonetheless, much of her prosperity also depended on the honest and fair practice of keeping appointments and meeting obligations – in other words, the reputation for being reliable.

“The gentleman paid a generous fee for your company this very evening.  He is not typical of the officers of Le Cap and is of an ardent nature.  You will certainly enjoy his attentions,” Johanna responded as she placed Katniss’ summer dress on a mannequin to air out near the dressing room window.  “And, it will be very profitable for you to keep his acquaintance.”

“What excuse did you give the Lieutenant for my indisposition?” she asked, brushing her dark hair before coiling it onto the top of her head.

“I sent little Rue to the barracks with a request to excuse you on the pretext of heat-illness.   Capitaine Mellark paid well but, given the fever with which he pursued you, I am quite convinced that you will not be seen in Le Cap this evening.  The deception will not be discovered,” Johanna huffed indignantly as she filled the water for Katniss’ evening soak, for she did not enjoy the doubting of her managerial talents. She sprinkled gardenia petals and French whale oil, the pungent fragrance soon mixing with the humidity of the evening and suffusing every corner of the small room.

Katniss froze in her preparations.  “Capitaine Mellark?  The Bloodhound of Saint Domingue?  You’re joking, Johanna!”  She shivered as she said this.  The gentleman was none other than the feared Captain of the French army, renowned for his efficiency and ruthlessness towards his enemies and yet his personal integrity was unimpeachable, exaggerated to almost comic proportions.  She feared that she would not be able to marshal enough charm to overcome her sudden unease.  She could manage every manner of lustful, corrupt man but was at a loss to confront the challenge of so stolid a personage.

“I was likewise taken aback, but the moment his eyes alighted upon you, he appeared to be in the grip of a Loa - like a man possessed!  If he is unimpeachable, then there truly is a whore for every man!”  Johanna chuckled, unable to repress her native vulgarity.

Katniss’ eyes narrowed, her temper flaring like a tropical storm. “I am no whore, Johanna.  I am a courtesan,” she repeated the refrain that Madam Effie taught her. “A whore is mounted like a dog and has no art.  I create beauty and bend men to my will.  And I have a purpose.  A common whore has no vision.”

Katniss lifted her head in angry defiance against the dust motes that danced on the beams of light entering the room.  She had maybe five good years of this profession left in her, for men tired of the same faces and asses, no matter how exquisite they were.  She was determined not to end up toothless, ill and destitute in one of the dozens of whore-houses near the port.  She saved her gifts, money and jewels, giving private loans at usury rates, while Johanna efficiently enforced payment arrangements in the only way she knew how.   In the meantime, they buried their wealth between the beams of her bedroom walls.  She had been forced to exchange her virtue for decadence but it was not an end in itself.  She would be free, not to starve and die, but to prosper and finally buttress her life against the mindless forces that had reduced her mother to desperation and death. Katniss let her silk robe fall from her shoulders, the sunset casting a golden light on her olive skin and had the sudden intimation that she was more than just beautiful, more than desirable. She was radiant like the sun.

**XXXXX**

Capitaine Mellark appeared at her door in all his military gallantry.  Johanna led him to the small, gold chest where he was asked to deposit his payment before he was given access to her mistress’ inner compartments.  The hand that held the satin box with the gold necklace shook slightly and a sheen of sweat burst over the skin at the back of his neck.   He had spent his afternoon preening like a lady – washing himself, then sitting for a shave and sending his man to press and stiffen his best shirt and collar.  He intuited the possible absurdity of dressing for a woman who was paid to find ecstasy in even the most common attire but he drowned his doubts in the memory of those silver eyes that danced behind his own each time they closed.  He was indeed a man in the fit of an illness whose spirits burned equally from his heart and his loins.

Madam Everdeen waited for him at the door of her ornately decorated living room. The decor was an attempt to keep with the French vogue of the moment but, though hopelessly outdated, there was evidence of an artistic eye sensitive to the symmetries of color and style.  She wore a satin robe and small slippers in the Arabic style.  Her hair was a mane of black silk cascading over her small, erect shoulders.  But it was her eyes that ravished his imagination – so exotic and precise in their silvery color, he could not doubt the negro blood that sang in her veins.  She took the box carefully from his hands and opened it, a slow smile spreading across her face as she took in the delicate gold chain which ended in a claw that held a silver grey pearl in its grasp.   She was accustomed to large, bawdy jewelry whose sole purpose was to showcase the wealth and presumption of its giver.  Katniss felt of flood of heat race over her skin.  This was not a gift intended to overwhelm but to woo.  It was an act of intimate persuasion and for the first time, she looked up to take in the man before her.  She was captivated by the deep blue of his eyes, a color that reminded her of the still waters of the Mer du Nord.  Like a crashing sea wave, the realization flooded her that he was not merely attractive but beautiful. His hair was of a spun gold color, curled from the humidity.  Her eyes drifted over the prominent, masculine nose, skating over his full pink lips, taking in the smooth skin of his chin.  She did not resist the urge to touch his jaw and whispered, “You shaved.”

It was not lost on Peeta Mellark that the first words Katniss Everdeen had ever said to him had not been uttered for the purpose of introduction.  It was to remark on the fact that he had shaved for her as if she had known him forever and for the first time in his adult life, he was at a loss.  Inside this room, he was at the mercy of this bewitching creature and willingly accepted her dominion, nodding without saying a word.  She removed the gold chain from the box and turned her back to Peeta.  Lifting her hair, she wordlessly indicated that he should help her fix the gift around her neck.  He fumbled slightly with the clasp but soon the chain was attached and he let his fingertips linger a moment longer on her smooth skin until he felt her pull away.  She turned around and let him take in the offering on her skin.

“The pearl.” she asked, suddenly breathless.  “I have never been given such a unique one before.” She caressed the cool roundness with her fingers.

Peeta was struck dumb by her small face buried in waves of thick, black hair that he longed to touch and it was only with extreme effort that he was able to loosen his tongue.  “Your eyes, m’lady.  It bears the color of your eyes.”

Katniss took a deep breath.  There were clients she had been with repeatedly who could not say with certainty what the color of her eyes were and this imposing man of such virile power had possessed the sensitivity to immortalize them in the pearl that now hung from her neck.  She took both his hands, large and calloused, and felt an explosion of sensation race from her fingertips to the center of her chest.  Peeta’s lips fell open, a tiny breath escaping and she knew he had felt it also.  His palms were clammy and it occurred to her that the man was suffering in the heat of the evening.  Grateful for the distraction from the sensation that threatened her deep, native indifference towards all men, she deftly opened the buttons of his military coat and pushed the jacket carefully over his shoulders.

“You are hot,” she whispered, suddenly shy as she placed the jacket over the back of a chair. Taking his hand and shivering from the contact, she pulled him over to a settee and sat him down, standing between his thickly muscled legs.  She openly appraised him before reaching for a plate where he noticed for the first time the heavy, plump slices of mangos.   The summer heat caused the juice to ooze from the ripe fruit.  She picked up one of the swollen slices, popping it playfully into her mouth.  She then lowered her head to his mouth and kissed him, pushing her sweetened tongue through his pliant lips where she danced with his until he felt her slide the mango slice across the boundary of his lips.  He was taken aback by the intimacy of the act and felt himself harden within the tight confines of his britches.

Katniss had different routines for her _friends_ , as she preferred to call them, depending on her understanding and experience of their desires.  She never spent more than two hours with any one of them unless under extraordinary – and expensive – circumstances but she never made them feel rushed or timed.  Capitaine Mellark, however, befuddled her senses and as she ran through her repertoire, found none that would do and so she abandoned the script and let the moment lead her.  She took his face between her hands and rained kisses on him – eyes, nose, cheeks, chin – in quick succession, an act that elicited a stifled moan from Peeta’s lips.

Rousing himself from his stupor, he placed his large hands on her legs, gliding over the smooth muscles of her thighs and the exquisite curve of her buttocks, resting them on her hips.  Katniss skin burned at the touch of those battle-worn hands, the sensation weakening her knees, causing her to drop down between his legs.  She was disconcerted that she could not control the strumming of her body and clutched his thighs for purchase.  Leaning forward, she slowly licked the skin of his smooth chin, tracing a path down the surface of his neck.  Kisses continued to fall from her lips as she unbuttoned his dress shirt, her fingers dancing over the taut muscles of his chest, causing them to twitch with each pass of her skin against his.  When she’d pushed the stiff material off of his shoulders, she admired the smooth skin puckered with the proof of his numerous campaigns.  She brought her lips down and flicked her tongue over one scar, laving his skin wherever it was raised into ridges.

Peeta was sure something inside of him would erupt as her tongue traversed the path of her fingers.  Just when he thought he could not endure the feel of those sly lips upon him, she reached over to the dish of ripe mangos swollen with juice and captured two of them between those long, delicate fingers.  To his shock, she squeezed the juices over his chest and stomach, casting aside the pressed fibers of the fruit back onto the dish.  Greedily, as if he had been a slice of the ripened fruit itself, she lapped the juice from his chest and stomach.  He felt the breath rush out of his lungs and sank into the sweet suffocation of her lips on him, running his hands through the curtain of her ebony hair that brushed at his groin and thighs with her every movement.   He grabbed the hand that had squeezed the fruit and licked her fingers, sucking on each dainty one until she moaned against his belly.

Steadying her racing breath, Katniss reached the buckle of his britches, working them skillfully off of him, tugging off his riding boots and freeing him of the layers of stiff clothing until he sat naked before her.  She felt a rush of moisture drench her center as she took in the sight of him open to her in all his virility.  His manhood lay rigid over his rippled belly; defined, muscular thighs on either side of her, attesting to the conditioning that only comes from spending extended amounts of time on horseback.

Undoing his lavish work on her fingers, Katniss took two more slices and squeezed the juice, this time over his hardened cock, the thick syrupy juice running in rivulets over the veins and ridges and dripping in heavy drops over his sack and onto the floor.  She kissed the engorged tip, her tongue licking at the juices with long, languid strokes.  Peeta’s head fell back against the couch as she used the flat of her tongue to lap up every last drop of juice, capturing his sack in her mouth and sucking gently.   When the coiling in his belly became an inescapable pain, she sheathed his organ in her mouth, taking him as deeply as she could into her throat. Peeta clutched at her hair, moving it aside to watch Katniss intently as she bobbed over his hips, her delicious hands stroking what would not fit in her mouth.  Too soon, he felt the tightening in his balls and he longed to withdraw from her mouth, desperate to make her feel the pleasure she was giving to him but Katniss would not release his cock.  With a painful groan, he came in hot spurts that she swallowed as greedily as the mango juice she had lapped up earlier.  As his softening member slid out of her lips, she took the last bit of mango and bit into it, chewing slowly before offering him the other half.  She slithered like a snake up his body and straddled him.

Peeta felt he had emptied out his very soul with that orgasm but the feel of her impossibly soft skin against his revived him and he kissed her, his tongue exploring her mango flavored mouth.  She threaded her fingers in his hair as he undid the sash of her robe, running his powerful hands over her until they cupped her perfectly-rounded breasts.  He took each in turn, tweaking her nipples until he lowered his mouth to taste each one, sucking greedily on each turgid tip, drawing them into his mouth.  With his wide, open palm, he pressed the small of her back towards him, forcing her to arch her back, her breasts jutting forward.  He lapped at both of them, running wet, hot kisses over them until Katniss trembled in his arms.  Unable any longer to resist the need to feel her beneath him, he stood suddenly, constraining her to wrap her legs around his waist before he walked them both to the bed that was visible through the thin curtain of her bedroom.

Peeta kissed her voraciously, kneading her bottom as he plundered her mouth, lowering her slowly onto the bed.  She tried to position him onto his back, determined to continue pleasuring him as he had paid her to do but he stopped her with other intentions.

“It’s your turn,” he whispered as his lips made their way down her neck and across the indentation of her collarbone; his flicking tongue sending shivers of pleasure across her skin.

When she felt his thick fingers between her now embarrassingly wet folds, she moaned in protest.  “Capitaine! Let me please you.”  

Peeta nipped at her breasts, slipping a thick finger inside of her.  “Not Capitaine.  Peeta. I paid for the privilege to do as I want.  And I want to please you,” he said firmly before kissing her deeply, pushing a second finger inside of her, causing Katniss’ hips to buck against him.  He let his mouth traverse the olive territory of her skin, from her neck to her small, rounded breasts and down her stomach, laving and biting her until she trembled in expectation.

“Tell me what you like.” he asked earnestly.  She looked into his sea-blue eyes and was struck mute for want of a response.  She had been trained in every art of giving pleasure but never in her education had she learned to receive and accept it.  She was not taught to see her body as a vehicle for her own desire, having submitted to the pleasure of others so completely and for so long that seeing a man in the throes of his own ecstasy became confused with her own.  She had had many men kneel between her thighs but now this man would confound her carefully constructed boundaries and request – no, demand  - to please her and she had no answer to give.

Her lips trembled at the realization that she did not have access to information about her body that  other woman of her age and beauty could take for granted.

“Monsieur,” she said softly, balling the soft sheets with her hands.  “I do not know.”

Peeta lifted his head from between her bent legs and gave her a look of shock and compassion.  “That will not do, _ma perle_.  You will learn to be pleased,” he said this and gone was the unsure, awestruck man of not an hour ago.  In his place was a man with purpose as he showered the inside of her thighs with small, reverent kisses.  He came close to her center and kissed the trimmed mound, the tender skin at the juncture of her leg until she fairly begged him “Monsieur, please!”  He chuckled against her leg and without warning, licked her folds with a long, slow motion.  Katniss arched at the sensation and the care he took to make sure she felt his every stroke.  

As he continued his slow torture, he swirled his fingers around her wetness, bathing them before dipping them back inside of her, pumping with exquisite slowness as she writhed beneath him.  The action of his lips and his fingers caused such a fit of thrashing in her, he had to placed a forearm across her hips to hold her still.  When his lips descended on the hardened nub of her desire, she became a bursting star.  Without warning, Katniss felt the explosion in her body and spasms of pleasure that were almost painful in their intensity radiating from her core to every extremity of her body.  She was so lost in the blinding undulations of her orgasm that Peeta’s penetration took her by surprise, her contractions pulling him into her.

Compared to his fingers, she felt stretched and full beyond her capacity by his large cock.  He took one of her legs and placed it over his shoulder, sinking with a loud groan all the way into her.  Katniss let out a loud, animal-like sound that was half his name, half a wail that resonated through the small house, causing Johanna to appear briefly at the door with weapon drawn in a semi-panic.  At the look of ecstasy in their hot, sweaty bodies, she shook her head and withdrew quietly without either of them noticing.

Peeta’s muscles bunched and sweat ran in rivulets down his back as he drove into her, watching her face as he took her again and again.  He had been overcome with compassion for her but now another force entered him, filling him with a need that made him lose all consciousness of anything except his hips snapping against hers, each thrust eliciting a loud moan from her lips.  He pushed her legs down to her shoulders, opening her to him like a blooming hyacinth, and claimed her womanhood like a herdsman brands his livestock, with red-hot iron until the mark on the creatures are unmistakable to all who looked on them.  

He watched as another wave began to crest over her, threatening to drown them both beneath it.  Peeta’s mouth crashed down on hers so she would tasted her sex on his lips and savor as he did every sensation between them. He was possessed with the conviction that he had finally found his purpose in this universe after having been alone for so long.

As he felt his own release nearing, he reached between them and rubbed her hard clit until she fell apart and he took all of it – ever contraction, every gush of arousal and devoured it, his cock crashing into her as he spilled his release, his cries mixing with hers.  Katniss clawed and bit him, leaving a trail of purple marks along his shoulder until he was empty and collapsed onto his forearms to keep from crushing her with his weight.

Katniss lay quiet and unsure beneath him, lost in her vulnerability.  The silence of the night, punctuated by their slowing breaths was as deafening as their passionate moans of only a few moments earlier.  With her other friends, there was always a glib comment, a charming complement to transition them to the inevitable exit, the promise of another visit soon.  But she was pinned beneath Peeta’s unspoken claim.  She felt her body as her own for the first time and his effect on it – the bruises from the impact of his hips, the stickiness of his orgasm between her legs, the taste of their mingled sweat on her lips.  She had somehow gotten lost in the theater of her performance, becoming more than its star and was seized with a sudden, blinding fear of treading unknown territory.

So it was with surprise that she felt the moisture on her shoulder.  Turning her face, she looked at Peeta, a man with whom she’d barely shared a complete thought and yet to whom she had exposed more intimacy than she had ever given to anyone else, releasing silent tears that slid down her shoulder and onto the sheet.  He turned away, burying his sobs in the pillow, the suppression causing his large body to vibrate.  Johanna appeared in the doorway to signal that the time would soon be up but Katniss waved her away.  Johanna scowled unhappily at her but withdrew, closing the door behind her.

The force of Peeta’s love for this grey-eyed mulatta of the rich, olive skin and honeyed voice had overtaken him with a certainty he had never felt during all the well-thought out projects and campaigns he had ever engaged in.  He would have her, whatever it cost him or he would never be himself again. In that moment of unmanly abandon, he cursed his integrity and thought of the wealth and power of the other men in her life, how little he could offer her in comparison except for the one thing that no white man would ever give her.  At that moment, he steeled his resolve and, drying his eyes against the pillow, turned his head back to see her staring with those unearthly eyes gone black with intensity.  He gathered her slim body to his hard chest and kissed her swollen lips, his hands fanning across her back, pressing her to him.  He stroked her shoulders, her arms and her hips as he kissed and kissed and kissed her, small moans gathering and escaping Katniss’ lips whenever he allowed her purchase to breath.

He finally pulled back to look at her hooded eyes and flushed expression.  “I am a poor military man.  My father was a baker and my life’s desire was to travel the world and become a soldier.  My family worked tirelessly to send me to the Ecole’ Militaire so that I could learn the art of military conquest.  It was my objective to become the best Capitaine in the French Army.”

“I know your reputation,” whispered Katniss.  “They say you are competent but cruel to your enemies.  White men and maroons alike fear you.” She shivered as she said this.

He pushed her gently onto her back to stare down at her.  “You have nothing to fear from me.  I do what I must to avert greater evils but I would never hurt you,” he said, running his hands over her face.

Katniss’ thinking became confused.  No one had touched her before in that way and it made her feel invincible and exposed at the same time.  “Monsieur, why do you say these things to me?”

Peeta kissed her again, leaving her breathless.  “Because I love you and want to give you the only thing of worth that I have.  I place my name at your feet.  Marry me, and I will give you respectability.”

She was taken aback by this and attempted to protest – how could one like him marry someone like her?  He would be ridiculed in good society and though she did not care a fig about the wagging tongue of gossip, for the first time, without rational thought or precedent, the fate of another became more worthy to her than her own.  He would be ruined.

He silenced her attempts at protest with a large finger pressed gently over her lips.

“We will go away, to France or Cuba or even the Americas where no one will know us”

Katniss sat up suddenly, startling Peeta as she moved to kneel next to him on the bed.  The candle on the sideboard had almost burned out completely and what remained was the cool light of the waning moon.

“Monsieur Capitaine…” started Katniss with some severity.

“Peeta,” he interrupted, staring hungrily at the outline of her body against the light of the moon.

Katniss took a steadying breath.  “Peeta.  I am not of a marrying kind. I have no skills beyond the ones you have seen,” she spread her hands wide to indicate her body. “You have only just met me…”

“I do not need more time to know that you should be mine,” he said with what she perceived was his commanding tone, the kind that would likely have made many a subordinate cringe in fear.

“You’ve only just met me,” she repeated slowly and with equal steel, “and there is the matter of my profession.  It is not respectable but it affords me a certain independence that I value. It is not…uncommon…for men to become infatuated with me…”

It was Peeta’s turn to sit completely up, his large body uncurling from its attitude of repose.  Katniss’ breath hitched in her throat.  It was no wonder that both enemies and friends could be intimidated by him.

“You seem to mistake me for a boy just come off of a ship from France, Madame.  I am easily ten years your senior and have learned that there are moments in a man’s life when he must rely on intimations that exceed logic and rationality and can only best be called his wits.  I have reached the rank of Capitaine by trusting in things that the human mind does not arrive at by rational means alone.”  He took her hands in his, the stern aspect of his features softening, causing her courage to falter.  “When I laid eyes upon you in that fetid market, I knew by means of this faculty that I had to have you, no matter the cost to me.”

Katniss had no response for this, nor did he wait for one as he continued.

“If your obstacle is economy, I will work day and night to ensure your comfort.  If it is the scorn of society that gives you pause, we will change that society.  If you fear entrapment, you will have all the freedom to which you are entitled as a creature of God, certainly more than the poor beasts who toil on the plantations of this accursed island. But I will not accept your refusal on the merit of these obstacles.   However, if your heart tells you that I will never be more than an infatuated admirer for you, then I will thank you for giving a man a brief glimpse of that paradise that awaits all good souls and never burden you with my company again.”

At these words, Katniss was seized with a sudden panic.   _Never see him again?  Impossible!_ She had no means of understanding the momentous arrival of the Captiaine in her life but in a few short hours, he’d unwittingly cast a bright light onto her dim existence and she feared she would go blind if he took his radiance away.

“Sir,” she whispered, “I am not indifferent to you.  You have brought a strange and sudden happiness to me,” he reached a hand up to stroke her cheek.  “But I am too pragmatic to believe that the sudden onset of love you claim can be relied upon.  I must know the resolution of what you propose before I play roulette with our lives.”

Peeta took her hands and kissed her knuckles, pondering her statement.

“In two days’ time, I must depart for an excursion to the Western Island.  The campaign will detain me for one month.  Upon my return, I will seek you out.  Put your affections to the test.  Examine your heart.  If your sentiments remain pure and true, I will marry you the very day of my return.  But if you excavate and discover the seed of doubt, I will honor your desires and delay you no further.”

Katniss was enraptured by the movement of his lips as he spoke but she listened to his words with her heart.  She possessed her own instincts as well and they told her what her mind could not believe - that his devotion was indeed genuine.  She nodded in response to his words.

“I will wait and consider what you have spoken.”

She was rewarded with a smile so sincere, his countenance became that of a young man, a luminous beauty that brought the prickling of tears to her eyes, full of warmth and the perfect intimation of shyness.  He reached across to kiss her and, in one swift, deft move, lifted her over his lap and impaled her with his waiting erection.  Katniss gasped in surprise, wrapping her legs around his waist as he lifted her easily over him.  She pushed his head back and kissed him, ravaging his mouth as his cock ravaged her center.  He leaned back against the headboard and Katniss quickly shuffled her knees beneath her, arching over him while he drove into her, his hips bucking upwards to meet hers.  She tightened her well-practiced muscles around him, which caused him to call out her name in a long, painful moan. With every thrust, she squeezed him until the universe compressed into that one boiling point where they were joined and exploded outwards, a crashing wave of human joy cresting over them both until they fluttered down from that ethereal place into a boneless knot of arms and legs.

Burying his face in her dark hair, he whispered fiercely as the sun broke over the horizon, “Promise me, my grey-eyed pearl, promise me that you will think about what I have said.”

“I promise.” said Katniss, reserving for herself the conviction and attendant terror that she already knew her answer.

 

**XXXXX**

**Inspired by the novel _Island Beneath the Sea_ by Isabel Allende.  **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nspired by the novel Island Beneath the Sea by Isabel Allende. 
> 
> Each chapter will feature both alternating Haitian-Creole poetry/music and French poetry/music to represent my protagonists. The first three chapters were already published and will each be reposted with revisions. Chapter four will have a brand new banner!
> 
> A heartfelt thanks and dedication goes out to esq2u for recommending this novel and suggesting I write an Everlark story based on the Violette Boisier/Etienne Relais storyline for her birthday. Thank you for giving me something else to obsess about!
> 
> I also must thank my brilliant and indispensable beta, solasvioletta, who has been my friend and beta ever since I’ve started this adventure. I dedicate this relaunch to her also.
> 
> I also want to bring back my fanfic recommendations for each chapter. Here is the first one!
> 
> HG Fanfic Rec: Stubborn Love by stacylk - Due to a torrid love affair with the Baker's youngest son, when she was eighteen, Katniss Everdeen now raises their son in the Seam as she struggles with her unresolved love for Peeta Mellark proving that true love can be stubborn. AU. Canon-Divergence.
> 
> Tell me what you think!


	2. Permit Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for following this story! I intend to post the first three edited chapters this week and take a pause before Prompts in Panem, which will be taking place starting October 1st. Since many will be immersed in reading the new stories found there, I will delay publication of the first new chapter of this story, Chapter 4, until one week following PiP.
> 
> Meanwhile, a bit of historical and cultural background may be in order here. Skip if you are not interested.
> 
> Voodoo - The religion of Saint Domingue (the island that holds the current Dominican Republic and Haiti; we are only interested in the French half, or Haiti) was and still is Voodoo (a syncretism between Catholicism and religions of the African slaves). There are many deities or Loas that are worshiped but the ones that I focus on are Erzuli, in her incarnation as the Loa of Love and Water, who appears as a snake or a beautiful woman in water, and Legba, who is her sometimes spouse. He is older than the sensuous Goddess and is considered the most benevolent of the Loas. Followers generally invoke the Loas by chanting, offering gifts and dancing until the Loa “mounts” them or fills them up. The supplicants take on characteristics of their Loa. Most of the time, Erzuli will fill a follower with well-being, good health and joy but in her incarnation as Love, she mounts her followers privately. It results in a very sensual experience though Erzuli herself always remains a virgin. Her mountings can also end in tears because she also contains within herself the suffering that accompanies love.
> 
> The Haitian Slave Uprising - This uprising is considered the only successful slave uprising in history. It was violent and bloody, as slaves took their anger out on the plantation owners, petit blancs (unlanded but well-to do whites), affranchis (free mulattos like Katniss and Annie) and anyone perceived to be an enemy of emancipation including poor whites who did not own slaves. You will see that the history of the uprising is a complex one full of alliances and betrayals but I have simplified many of the players. An example of this complexity are the Maroons, or escaped slaves recruited into a guerilla army, who enjoyed the patronage, at times, from the English, Spanish and even the French themselves in a twist that leads to the conflict that is the climax of this story.
> 
> I’ve provided a timeline of events to help guide the reader. in 1782, Katniss would have been 12. Therefore, her current age is 20, which, in its day, was considered a ripe age for a women. Peeta is actually 15 years her senior in this fic - or 35. This is my first age gap!Everlark story.
> 
> And so, without further ado…

 

**_The noise the pillow makes wakes me_ **

**_the noise of your hair in my dreams_ **

**_the noise of your eyes in my heart,_ **

**_of your footsteps in my mind,_ **

**_of your whole body_ **

**_on my back_ **

**_Go on, my love!_ **

**_Walk through the house any way you want!_ **

**_May the moon help you walk over me,_ **

**_may the oleander find a path in your hair!_ **

**_Go on, my love!_ **

**_Walk through my house any way you prefer!_ **

**_Don’t let anyone oppose you!_ **

**_Make me feel your footfalls in my very foundation!_ **

 

**-frome Lesepase (Permit) by Sito Kave; translated by Jack Hirschmann**

 

**_Summer, 1782_ **

 

Madam Trinket came to learn of the death of Monsieur Everdeen and the tragic suicide of his wife long after the society of Le Cap had tired of gossiping about the tragedy.  It pained her heart deeply - Monsieur Everdeen had shown her a great kindness in their youth and preserved their friendship with an impatient disregard for the differences in their class.  Madame Trinket was one of the white-born, _petit blancs_ of which the island abounded - descendents of the French colonists who had first settled the island at the turn of the century.  Her father had been a mariner on many a boat entering and exiting the treacherous, treasure-and thief-laden ports of the Caribbean.  He died when Madam Trinket turned of age, much like the young charge she now sought out.  She had not had the fortune of an abundant, albeit dissolute, estate to maintain her well-being with the nuns as did Mr. Everdeen’s daughter. From a tender age, Madame Trinket quickly learned to use the gifts which nature had so generously endowed her - a quick intelligence, the ability to dissimulate in any society as if she had been born to it, and a persistence that was close to indefatigable.  Her physical attributes - silky blond hair and gentle, light-blue eyes - were more than adequate to assist her survival but they were not of the rare and exotic exquisiteness of the girl she now took into her home.  No, Madame Trinket had prospered and earned a discreet place in society because of her ingenuity and astute business acumen.

 

In deference to her great friendship with Monsieur Everdeen, Madame Trinket could not see the child turned out onto the streets after the auctioning off of the last of her father's hard-earned wealth - most of which had been purchased with a certain glee by Monsieur Seneca Crane.  Neither would Katniss become one of the “common girls” of her bordello, if those girls could even be considered common by any standard.  Madam Trinket owned and managed one of the most exclusive “gentlemen's clubs” of Le Cap, a place of such meticulous discretion that men of high rank and bottomless ambition used the club as a meeting place to discuss matters best kept hidden from the Assembly, or the governing body of the island, comprised of the most powerful plantation owners.  The older woman had overheard more than a few seditious conversations among those power-hungry men to such a degree that she had cause, on occasion, to avail herself of the information gleaned to induce one gentleman or another to behave favorably towards her interests.

 

Even at the age of 12, Madame Trinket saw in Katniss' slender, luminous beauty a fierce reserve of character, swift intelligence and uncanny ability to see beneath the illusions of lies and misrepresentations to arrive at the truth of things as they truly were.  To possess so powerful a gift at such a young age was nothing less than prodigious.  Madame Trinket had found her rotégé and endeavored to bestow upon her the wealth of her skill to ensure that the girl would prosper where other women were consumed. In deference to the girl’s character, Madame Trinket chose to speak to her as an equal from that very young age.

 

“Mademoiselle Everdeen,” she explained to her charge, The first lesson you must learn is that beauty is a weapon, not a gift.  Therefore, you must learn to sharpen your weapon as soldiers sharpen their bayonets.”  Madame Trinket taught the girl to protect herself from the sun, to avoid any tasks requiring the ruin of her long, delicate fingers. Her hair and skin would be bathed in avocado and milk, of which there was an abundance and therefore cost next to nothing to consume.

 

For the girl’s part, Katniss was at first diffident towards the older, painted woman. She did not fully understand the purpose of her new home right away, though she did not suffer either. The women in the home treated her gently, with a few exceptions, whom Madame Trinket swiftly disavowed for their insolence and envy.  The awareness of Katniss' circumstances unfolded slowly upon her as her skill and craft increased.  But Katniss was a girl forged from an iron character and learned to be calculating and indifferent to the vicissitudes of her trade.  She had ceased to nurture romantic notions of love or marriage after the death of her parents and took in Madame Trinket's lessons with the enthusiasm of one who learns to swim because her survival depends entirely upon it.  

 

Katniss was a survivor and her determination to survive was older than her consciousness of it.  She learned to wield the weapon of her beauty as an archer learns to deliver his arrows, with equal and devastating efficacy.  Her reserved nature and penchant for seriousness were converted into mystery, her tendency towards silence only increased the perception of her etherealness.  The femininity that Katniss cultivated as her armor, the pure unaffected composure of a woman who appeared to hold the secrets of life cradled in her bosom, became the shield she projected to the world.

 

Not long after her arrival, she met Johanna Mason, a newer acquisition in Madam Trinket's parlor of delights that was the common area of the bordello. From the first, Johanna revealed her taciturn disposition and fierce, warrior-like nature.  Madame Trinket soon regretted the purchase of that mulatta, for she turned men away in terror of her ferocious countenance.  There was only one person in that bordello who befriended Johanna and that was Katniss herself, who recognized beneath her vulgar exterior kindred spirit similar to the one Katniss  herself, hid behind the artifice of her craft.  Katniss understood Johanna - her indomitable will and intolerance of trifles which, to her, encompassed  a great deal of the many activities that engaged most people. Katniss shared Johanna’s complete impatience with the whole human enterprise.  This decision to defend her dear friend was doubly propitious when Johanna proved her utility, not as a temptress but as the protector of the ever-more desirable jewel of Madame Trinket's collection of courtesans.

 

By the time she was 16, Katniss had become a legend.  Demand was great for her exotic allures and Madame Trinket cultivated her exclusivity with fastidious possessiveness, teaching Katniss to be selective until she only kept the company of the wealthiest, attractive and most important personages in the city. She taught Katniss the value of independence so that when Madame Trinket passed into the eternal slumber of night, she left Katniss a substantial quantity of gold and the possession of Mademoiselle Mason, enabling her two preferred charges to pursue their profession in an enviable state of independence.  

 

From the beginning, the dynamic of the two women was set.  They established their independent residence in a small but tidy house in the Seam quarter. Johanna managed expenses and negotiated fees as well as protected Katniss from the occasional excessively passionate suitor.   It was Johanna who suggested the private loans and steep interest that soon proved to be the most efficient means of investing the money that Katniss earned.  Katniss and Johanna had managed, through luck, talent and shrewd determination to carve for themselves a profitable existence in the underbelly of an island where unattached women of color were destined to eke a meager subsistence plagued at best by poverty and obscurity or, at worst, by abuse, disease and eventually, death.

 

**XXXXX**

 

**_June, 1790_ **

 

Katniss lay in the steaming bath, breathing in the sweet aroma of the petal-strewn water.  The delicate claw that held her pearl lay possessively in the valley of her breasts, floating slightly over her left as if standing guard over her heart.  Her reverie was replete with images of a crystal mountain lake towering with reeds that obscured the clear waters from travelers on the main road.  In this secret lake, she floated, eyes closed,  dark hair streaming languidly behind her.  She was naked, of course, and quite without the preoccupations of her day-to-day existence, which generally consisted of haggling over the pleasure of her body.  She often dreamed of this fairy lake, full of longing for its crisp, cool solitude, knowing in her heart that she could live a life along the banks of its still, lonely waters.  

 

Except that there now intruded in her peaceful and solitary day-dream the image of another wading gently into the water towards her reclining form. As he reached his hand out to her, she felt neither fear nor mortification.  She was filled instead with both a deep satisfaction and a profound longing at the same time.  The cool droplets of water that clung to his powerful fingers dripped over her stomach as his hand ghosted over her, teasing her with its indecision.  Wherever the shadow of his hand fell, her untouched flesh prickled to life, yearning for his caress.  Her trembling became such that she lost her balance and was forced to let her legs fall to the muddy lake bottom.  She opened her eyes to capture his blue ones and felt herself smile, not one of her false, porcelain smiles best reserved for her nightly performances, but a genuine one full of adoration.  She stepped into his cool, solid arms and drank in the sight of him.

 

"You've returned," she whispered, running her fingers over the rivulets of water that flowed over his powerful arms.

 

"As I swore I would." he responded before lowering his head to capture her lips with his.  She shuddered in anticipation and did not hear her name being called until she felt Rue's small hand brush against her wet shoulder.

 

"Katniss!" she called again.  "Do you sleep?"

 

Katniss shook the vision from her head, though its imprint would remain with her the entire day.  "No.  I was lost in thought." She straightened up in the cooling water, goosebumps springing up over her skin, though the afternoon was warm and humid.  

 

She cast her glance at Rue, the young slave girl that Johanna had convinced her to purchase to assist with the household, as Johanna's duties as enforcer and manager kept her busy most of the day.  When she had brought her home to Katniss, she was nothing more than a 17 year old stick with protruding eyes and limbs, a burst of tangled, matted hair atop an otherwise lovely face.  She had belonged to the cruel Seneca Crane and it was a week before the girl could be convinced to lift her eyes off the ground and look Katniss in the face.  Remembering her confusing first days with Madame Trinket, Katniss could not help but melt in compassion for the mistreated girl.  Johanna was almost convinced that Rue was mute and that for this reason she had been sold for close to nothing.  Yet one day, after having helped Katniss dress, Rue whispered in that sweet voice meant to belong to a bird, "May I fetch my lady a shawl for the evening?" to which Katniss could only nod dumbly at Rue’s speech while the girl wrapped her in it as if she were made of glass.  

 

From that day, Rue blossomed under Katniss' care. She revealed herself to be somewhat in awe of Katniss' beauty and watched her with open admiration as she helped her with her toilette. It did not take Rue long to understand Katniss' vocation and in consequence tended her mistress with the extra care and gentleness that was so integral to her nature. Yet while she appeared to esteem Katniss to the degree one might call reverence, her rapport with Johanna was less formal.  Once she threw off the intimidation that crippled the natural exercise of communication,  she found in Johanna a stout and trustworthy companion. Rue had finally found relief from the offenses of her previous master.

 

As little Rue gently dried Katniss with a bit of worn silk, she hummed a tune that Katniss found soothing to her nerves. It had been several days since the Capitaine had departed after a night that, were it not for Johanna's confirmation of his existence, appeared to have been woven from the stuff of dreams.  Even the mere thought of his skin against hers made Katniss feel feverish, her desire to do nothing more than lie in her bed and call to mind every detail of every sensation he had provoked in her almost overwhelmed her and sent her back to her room to seek release.

 

As Johanna would so delicately say, she was worse than a bitch in heat.

 

Katniss shook off the vision of herself between his powerful legs or the impression of his thick hands on her hips as he filled her up and focused instead on the task of preparing for the day before her.

 

"Come along, then. The day waits for no one," she whispered, more to herself than to Rue.

 

**XXXXX**

 

After the departure of the Capitaine, Katniss resumed her routine with outward serenity, while her mind was a tumult of conflicting impressions.  She could not be sure what her sentiments were, so sudden and complete was the Capitaine's effect on her.  She was not particularly given to self-reflection and spent little, if any time at all on her emotions.  In fact, she was so out of the habit of that deep thinking typical of the young women of her age that she was unprepared altogether for the strong feelings inspired by the Capitaine.  Katniss was an observer and a thinker but she was rarely at the center of her own ruminations.  So little did she value the tempest of sentimentality that she disdained it in herself before all others.

 

So Katniss carried on with the business of her life, willfully ignorant to the torrent growing inside of her whose name bore that of a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed Frenchman whose touch was as gentle as his reputation was fierce.  She entertained her special friends, received their gifts with docile flirtatiousness, danced at their gentlemanly parties, fawned over them at the local theatre and crowned the sultry hours of midnight with the seasoning of her hips and thighs, all the while burying the torment of her longing under the minutiae of her day-to-day existence.

 

As the month wore on, it was this condition of predictability that Capitaine Mellark inadvertently capsized the moment he pursued that grey-eyed creature in the market.  For instead of the meticulous practice of her profession, he had made it impossible for her to be with anyone else.  The indifference and premeditation with which she’d exercised her vocation had fled her and when she attended her friends, she felt imposed upon instead.  She managed her appointments in an increasingly clumsy manner for her standard, though perfectly serviceable to the men with whom she trysted, oblivious as they were to the momentous tectonic shift that had taken place in her soul.  Katniss flirted, moved her lean muscles, walked with the same sultry carriage of a woman who would not be rushed by anyone.  Her body was as it had always been but her mind and soul had been filled up with Peeta as surely as Loa Erzuli, the island goddess of love, filled the blushing young virgin on her night of consummation.  

 

Katniss did not normally indulge the superstitions of that sweltering island.  She was a girl who had been educated on the tenants of the French Enlightenment outside of the parenthesis of religious education of St. Albino’s. Though not given to esoteric philosophy (certainly, Johanna would be the last to accompany her on such an intellectual journey), she had nonetheless been immune until that point to the vagaries of voodoo and the practice of magic, combating the grip of collective madness with Rationalism and Scientific Reason.

 

And yet she had no other explanation for the drunk, hungry state Peeta had left her in after their first night together.  She felt like she had eaten, not of earthly mangos, but of the fruit of Loa Erzuli herself.  The sticky, lusty nectar of the Goddess moved throughout her body at the mere memory of Peeta's strong hands. Katniss toyed with his pearl, rolling it against her lips as if it were a kiss from the very giver himself. At night, when Erzuli descended to flirt and provoke her, she dreamed of his deep blue eyes, the battle-scarred skin and lips so deceptively soft, she heard her own moans in the sweltering heat of her lonely bedroom.  In those tropical nights of suffocating humidity, she dreamed that she danced with the Loa who held her in place as Peeta entered her and with a deft sweep of her small fingers, she rose into the gyrating sky, heady with the phantasm of his spirit self moving through her, mounting her until Erzuli herself captured their spiraling souls and brought them both gently back down to earth.

 

The moment came when Johanna, carrying the tell-tale calling card of the Port Secretary, found Katniss swooning under the weight of her discontent.  Shedding violent tears of repulsion, she ripped the card from Johanna’s hand and, with a sob of fury, tore it to shreds.  The thick ribbons of expensive paper fluttered to the lavishly carpeted floor as Katniss flung herself across the bed, her body wracked with anguished grief.

 

“Katniss!” exclaimed Johanna, attempting in every way to calm her dear friend, murmuring in her ear as she caressed her back. Seized by a terrible wonder at the uncommon sight of Katniss rendered incomprehensible by emotion, Johanna whispered, “Is it the Capitaine, again?”

 

Katniss could do nothing more than nod vigorously as understanding dawned on Johanna.  “We are ruined!” she said softly, then with more anger, “Erzuli has poisoned my lady and now we are all ruined!”  

 

Katniss gasped loudly into the air and then moaned, rocking in place like the medicine women she'd seen in the sensuous dances of the slave quarter.  "You speak to me of voodoo and Loas and I do nothing more than dream of their accursed influence!  There is no such thing..."

 

"Then you are the fool!!"  said the fierce girl.  "That man has come upon you like the Evil Eye.  A curse, I tell you that can only come from a witch's magic.   You have your pick of any man you wish, or none if you so desire.  And yet you swoon over this poor man who can do nothing but dress you in common clothes and hide you away in some pauper's apartment for his amusement..."

 

"He asked to marry me, Johanna," Katniss said in a small voice.

 

"You can't think he was serious!" Johanna exploded in shock.  When Katniss did not answer, she became wild with indignation.  "You have been propositioned with more enticing rewards than marriage to a miserable military man!  There is the buccaneer, Cato Alexander, who offered to keep you lavishly as his concubine and is worth the weight of 100 Peeta Mellarks in gold!  Why, in the name of the Virgin, would you become infatuated with a man who can give you so little?"  Johanna paced angrily.

 

Katniss considered her friend's words, descending into confusion as her rational mind sided with Johanna and chided her passionate soul.  There was an answer to be found in the chaos of her debilitated heart but she had no words to describe it to her friend, who understood all things except the love sickness that had taken root within.  "You don't know him. It's not what he can give to me...it is that he offered everything...all that he has...all that I can want..."

 

"You've never aspired to matrimony before!  You were the first to scoff at the idea!  And now you would hand over your youth, your beauty, your _freedom_ , for a marriage contract?"

 

Katniss put her hand up to her now clammy forehead, squeezing her eyes shut while her other hand impulsively curled around Peeta's pearl.  Johanna was right, of course.  She had no good excuse for this raptus that had taken over her.  They had placed men in a category, like a resource to be mined when needed, an enterprise to be undertaken.  Had they not profited from the lust of men for most of their womanly lives?  And yet Katniss would throw it all over for a powerful but poor one, who would leave frequently for campaigns and whose lack of wealth would keep her out of the theater and the entertainments she had grown accustomed to?  All because of her uncontrollable infatuation?

 

But it was nothing as trite as lust or infatuation, her traitorous heart whispered urgently.  She dared not say this to Johanna but she was indeed sickened by some magic that robbed her of her reason.  She feared that this particular magic was as old as Papa Dumballah himself.

 

"You have a fever." said Johanna after touching Katniss' forehead.  "I will call Mother Seeder to visit you.  Maybe she can cast out this affliction that has befallen you.  You will be ill-served by such girlish fantasies and delusions."  With that, Johanna leapt up and ran straightaway out of their house and down the lane.

 

How to explain the desire that the Capitaine provoked in Katniss at the mere thought of their night together?  How could Johanna understand that money and jewels had no value in themselves, but for the freedom and safety they brought?  How to elucidate the epiphany that had suddenly seized Katniss, the mystery that had eluded her since her mother had chosen death over a life without her father - that she feared it was love that had infected her?  Love - perilous, soul-encompassing love because it promised another kind of freedom altogether, a more treacherous freedom that valued its own survival over all the bars of gold they had amassed together.

 

Katniss had become a diseased creature indeed.

 

**XXXXX**

 

Capitaine Mellark gathered his men under the direct orders of Commandante Snow, commander of the French forces of Saint Domingue. The ride out to the Northwest Island was known to be a diabolical one.  The French High Command feared an attempted ambush by Maroons - escaped slaves that made up the rebel army of Giya Makkubbe, the slave once known as Gale Hawthorne - and so Commandante Snow ordered a group of soldiers led by Capitaine Mellark to escort the plantation owners and members of the Assembly to a secret meeting with the Maroon leader to ensure their safety.  Unrest on the larger plantations was believed to be coordinated by Maroons in an attempt to destabilize the economic machine that demanded the existence of slaves. On an island where fewer than 15% of the population were free and the remaining souls were wretched slaves, it was in the best interest of that small but powerful minority to seek out a resolution to maintain that precarious balance. However, despite the potential for violence, it was an uneventful journey.   It was clear to the Capitaine that Giya Makkubbe had upheld his part of the truce.

 

The ride through the sweltering forest sorely tested Capitaine Mellark's equanimity.  This part of the island was particularly savage and physical discomforts were multiplied by the excess of insects and the stifling heat.  Horses struggled over the rocky terrain and fallen trees. In the middle of the tediousness was also another source of unease, the relief of which could only be found in a small house nestled in the Seam quarter of Le Cap over two days’ ride away.

 

The moment the raucous silence of the forest descended upon the traveling entourage, Capitaine Mellark's thoughts flew directly to where they always seemed to reside of late.   She came to him at all hours of the day and night to torment him with desire.  In his visions, her grey eyes stared up at him with a secret knowledge that he would gladly give his life to discover.  Katniss held her vigil in the tender chambers of his warrior heart, and he felt he had exchanged some vital piece of his soul with her.

 

He prayed that the days would march by more quickly, for in the middle of his fantasies of her exquisite lips and radiant eyes lived his secret fear, one that emphasized the significant disadvantages of his claim upon her. He was not wealthy, owned little land,  and though respectable in his profession, was an untitled gentleman with no independent means. He had discreetly used his connections to investigate and discovered that Katniss was frequented by the highest society of the Antilles.  She was right when she said that men often became infatuated with her and offered to keep her in various arrangements that would assure her material comforts, but these were all declined because of her well-known desire for independence.

 

His heart ached when he considered that he had nothing to offer except a name that was worth less than most. On some nights he became so despondent, his hopelessness caused him to renounce any expectation from her. He longed to rip his desire for her from his heart so that he could avoid the impending disappointment of her rebuff.

 

But he was greedy and knew he would have no peace until he saw her again. His fingers itched to touch her, his mouth flooded with the idea of tasting her again and he knew for all his authority, he would wait for the smallest encouragement to possess her again. Even her ambivalence would be acquiescence to him and he would labor under any conditions to have her again.

 

The sudden whinnying of the horses roused him from his obsessive contemplation of Katniss.  Their entourage had arrived at an opening of a valley ringed by mountains and sliced conveniently by two passes that opened on opposing sides of the field from which emerged each group. In the middle of the clearing was a table set up with a approximately 30 chairs. Capitaine Mellark quickly dispatched his first in command, Lieutenant Mitchell, to examine the situation. Behind him was his frequent companion and interlocutor, Dr. Finnick Odair, the highest ranking military doctor on the island.  Capitaine Mellark heard the doctor's horse make its way alongside him as the scout’s report was collected.

 

"Have we arrived?" asked Dr. Odair, wiping the perspiration from his brow with a finely embroidered handkerchief.  He was considered an exceptionally handsome man by all who met him and though this brought him some renown, it was his skill as a doctor for which he was most famous. This was in no small part a result of the tolerance he demonstrated towards the native practices of the island's voodoo medicine. He was known to keep the strictest confidence with Mother Seeder, the oldest and most respected medicine woman on the island.

 

At that very moment, Lieutenant Mitchell returned, "There is a company of Maroons the size of a regiment and well armed, Capitaine.  They wait beyond the meeting point at one hundred meters north of the eastern pass. However, Monsieur Makkubbe and his counselors have offered to abandon their arms as a sign of good faith, sir, if we do so also in full view of their company."

 

"Fetch Monsieur Crane," commanded Capitaine Mellark.  He did not want anyone to confuse his role at this summit. He was nothing more than an escort and upholder of French law, not a negotiator or peacekeeper.  The heavy plodding of hooves made him aware of the arrival of Monsieur Crane, the appointed representative of the plantation owners.

 

"The Maroon leader requests that you enter the negotiation fields without arms. What is your group's intent?" Mellark took in the image of a tall, sallow- skinned man who appeared to have a firmer grip on his riding crop than his appetite. Plantation owners were a distasteful lot to him - unnecessarily cruel to their captive subjects but obsequious  to the point of nausea in the presence of men of their own social class. The clear delineation of rights and behaviors of the military was understandably affronted by such cowardly behavior.

 

"He jokes! We won't expose ourselves to the caprice of that savage lot!" he exclaimed. Dr. Odair raised a derisive eyebrow behind the man's back.

 

Capitaine Mellark bit his tongue to keep from insulting the man and instead called forth all of his good breeding in formulating a response.  "Sir, it is not an unreasonable request and common amongst men of honor."

 

"Men! Those are not men! We will descend with our arms intact and they may likewise do the same," concluded Crane with petulant finality.

 

Capitaine Mellark gave the man a hard look of disdain before dispatching his Lieutenant with their response. The Capitaine continued to glare back at Monsieur Crane, satisfied to see the man cringe in intimidation.

 

"Be forewarned, Monsieur Crane, that if I lose even one of my men to this misadventure, I will call you personally to accounts." He pronounced this with such cool authority that there was no doubt in anyone's mind of the veracity of the Capitaine's intent. Before the man could sputter a response, Capitaine Mellark signaled to his men to begin their descent into the valley.

 

**XXXXX**

 

The meeting was a spectacular failure. Monsieur Crane's ill disposition was indicative of the prejudice the entire group of plantation owners carried into their negotiations. Nothing less than the full surrender of the Maroons and their return to the fields would pacify those gentlemen.  Capitaine Mellark studied Giya Makkube - a tall, muscular mulatto with eyes the same color as Katniss. He was in possession of a composure borne of the authentic experience of survival. He was not a political construction like the Frenchman that stood before him loaded with insults. He was a quiet man filled with the conviction of the perfect morality of his cause.  Makkube exchanged frequent probing glances with Mellark as each concession requested by the Maroon leader was rejected.

 

"The owners’ intractability will be the ruin of this island,"  commented Capitaine Mellark to Dr. Odair as they made their way back to the encampment.

 

"There is no economic incentive for them to grant wages to slaves when it is more profitable for them to consume and replace them every six months," his companion commented wryly as they made their way along a wild collection of plantain trees.

 

"And yet it would be a small concession to quell the unrest on the larger plantations," demurred Peeta.  "Nothing short of a royal decree of emancipation will truly move the owners to grant any freedoms to the slave population."

 

"Which in the spirit of justice, they have earned in the form of the abolition of the slave trade in France." answered Dr. Odair as he swatted away a large mosquito.  "The privilege of freedom granted to slaves on the continent will only spur more rebellion in those who have the misfortune of being born on the island."

 

"I fear the unrest will be more than the army can quell," muttered the Capitaine ominously.  "It has been difficult already to procure the men necessary to supervise a peaceful population.   It will require three times the number we have now to tame an enraged populace."

 

Dr. Odair considered this for a moment, giving the Capitaine a sidelong look.  "It would seem  our commission is most assured for a time."

 

"Indeed.  I rather hoped to continue another year before returning to France.  I tire of the instability." He became pensive at this and for a while, they rode along in silence, the only sounds coming from the dragonfly wings that sped by, the cacophony of singing birds, and the occasional far-away whoop of an ape or other wild beast.  After a bit, Dr. Odair dispersed the silence between the two men.

 

"I have considered retiring and relocating my family to New Orleans.  I have very good friends who have found it to be a very opportune city.  French is spoken and it is as good as living in Le Cap except without the threat of slaves poisoning your water at every turn."

 

An image of Katniss sprang unbidden to Peeta’s mind and, quite without knowing why, he decided to unload a small part of his heart's burden.  "Truth be told, I have recently considered a complete retirement from service.  I am 35 years old and desire to take up my father’s profession.” he began tentatively.

 

"Ah, I recall your father was a baker.  I am sure New Orleans would be greatly enriched by a good patisserie of the French school," Dr. Odair said.

 

Capitaine Mellark smiled at this before adding, "It would allow me to live with relative anonymity, which would be advantageous for the lady I have propositioned."

 

Dr. Odair pulled up short with his horse, shortening the distance between them and the men who rode in formation behind them.  Recovering his shock, he sped his horse up to keep the pace with the Capitaine.  "Permission to speak freely, sir."

 

Capitaine Mellark chuckled at this.  "Permission granted."

 

"Peeta, you have been a poor friend indeed.  A lady! And a marriage proposal!” exclaimed Finnick.  “Has she accepted?"

 

Peeta smiled sheepishly. "I cannot say for sure.  I will know when I return to Le Cap."

 

"Ah...and how long have you been acquainted?  I have never heard you speak of her," he probed.

 

"Not very long at all."  Peeta's face grew red from embarrassment. Though his affections and intentions were in no way lessened toward Katniss, he was acutely aware of the effect his proposal would have on others, even on such a libertarian soul as Finnick Odair.

 

"Come now, sir!  Why do you hesitate?   It is not an...induced marriage...is it?" Finnick asked as delicately as he could.

 

"No!  By my honor, she is neither with child nor is the marriage arranged.  I have proposed of my own free will to bind myself to the lady from an impulse born of pure devotion.  She will be my wife unencumbered by any of society's constraints," he responded heatedly.

 

Finnick smiled with satisfaction at the sight of his Capitaine in the throes of a passionate emotion that was neither anger nor offense.  "Who is this creature who has bound the great Bloodhound himself with the leash of matrimony?"

 

"You will have occasion to make her acquaintance if she accepts my hand," said Peeta cautiously. "Her surname is Everdeen."

 

Finnick's brow furrowed as he attempted to recall the family.  "The name is familiar to me.  Annie has an acquaintance who is owned by a Madame Everdeen - Johanna Mason.  But she would not be the same, I think.  The family went into dissolution after the death of the father.  He left all his material belongings to the wife.  However, she lost her senses after the death of her husband and committed suicide, leaving only the daughter and the estate in questionable stewardship. I believe the girl is a courtesan now and quite magnificent by repute."  He waited in silence for his friend to respond but Peeta remained quiet, piquing his friend’s curiosity further.  "Come now, friend.  Is your lady a relation to this Everdeen?"

 

Peeta took in a steadying breath.  "She is the very same."

 

Finnick's horse whinnied in confusion as his grasp on the rein tightened, then loosened quickly.  For once, the good doctor was left without words and the effort to find the ones to use with his friend soon rendered him incomprehensible.  With some delay, he finally recovered his wits.

 

"You must forgive my boldness, Peeta, for I do not wish to affront nor discourage your obvious affections but she would not be accepted in good society, even if she bore your name.  She may be the most enchanting creature in all the Antilles..."

 

"So she is..." said Peeta absently.

 

"Yes, but it is the matter of her reputation that is of concern, and consequently its effect on yours," Finnick said with some agitation.

 

Peeta quelled his instinct towards anger and tried to engage his friend in the thoughts that had tormented him these last days. "I care not a whit for _Good Society_.  Today, _Good Society_ has assured that this island will march towards civil war.   _Good Society_ did not help a woman keep her estate for the benefit of an only child who in consequence was forced into a profession well below her station. Her most frequent patrons are from this _Good Society_ that I must now take account of in deciding my life's happiness.  No, hang _Good Societ_ y!  I will do as my conscience dictates and let _Good Society_ care of itself!"

 

Finnick wiped his sweaty brow, considering his friend's words as they continued toward the river crossing that would take them to the city of  St. Louis du Nord where they would take their evening rest before resuming the journey to Le Cap.

 

The doctor’s silence disconcerted Peeta and while changing scouts and ordering his men, he brought his horse to the river’s edge next to Finnick’s.  He allowed the beast to have it's fill while waiting for Finnick to break the silence of the last three quarter hour.

 

As if on command, Finnick turned to his friend.  He had been blessed with eyes that were as green as the sea leaves that washed ashore, eyes that recalled the drawings of mermen in the storybooks of Peeta’s youth.  His copper hair was matted to his head and appeared dark brown from the sweat that drenched his scalp.  Humidity sat upon them like a second skin and Peeta longed to rip the material of his uniform from his body and fling himself into the water.  

 

"Finnick..." began Peeta finally.

 

"No, Peeta.  Let me speak. There are moments that reveal a person's character, holding up as it were a mirror of the truth of a conviction.  I have encountered this moment and failed.  I am a hypocrite and I am sorry,"  he held out his hand which Peeta gladly accepted.  "I have taken Annie as my wife despite her mixed blood, which the law would deem inferior. I have paid the consequences in influence and lost friendships and yet I would not trade a hair on my children's head for even one false friend." He twisted the horse’s reins in his hand as he considered his next statement.  “You are admirable, my friend, to pursue your heart’s desire without concern for the world’s opinion. I would happily make your fiance’s acquaintance and welcome her into the bonds of sincere friendship.”

 

"Thank you," said Peeta with deep feeling.  "I do not believe that an individual should be condemned to a lifetime of infamy for circumstances beyond their influence.  Why should I not have the wife of my choosing simply because she was constrained by misfortune to earn her keep in any way she could?  Why should she be exempt from the enjoyment of true companionship with a man who will cherish her simply because life has forced her down an ignoble path?  I have investigated her and she is a miracle of survival under most unfortunate circumstances.  Knowing the details of her struggles makes my bond to her stronger, not weaker. I desire the world's sanction but I will have her without it, if I must."

 

Finnick nodded approvingly and smiled his witty, conspiratorial smile.  "Take care, Capitaine.  Your compassion makes you sound more and more like an abolitionist every day."

 

"I am a subject of France and of the principles that make her great.  Though not all of those principles are present in this principality, I am still loyal to the law and uphold it with my life.  I will become an abolitionist when France demands it."

 

"A nobler sentiment has never been uttered.  However, principles are confirmed by actions and your actions are of a libertarian nature, my principled friend," said Finnick as he mounted his horse.    There was no good response to this comment so the two men lapsed into a companionable silence for the remainder of their journey through the tangled vegetation of the tropical forest.

 

**XXXXX**

 

Later that evening as Peeta lay beneath the canopy of giant banana leaves, the thought of Katniss intruded on his meditation of the failed meeting. He hoped that he would become the only one with whom she could abandon herself to the enchantment of being cared for.  He longed for her to permit him to cherish her.  In his mind, her string of clients, patrons and admirers fell away like the scales of burnt flesh to reveal the fresh, pink bloom of newborn skin.  He was unsentimental in matters of the world - he had seen enough to know that any tenderness of feeling should be buried deep within the armor of his hardened heart to ensure his survival. And yet the thought of Katniss liberated the better angels of his nature - a tender tolerance for a world that suddenly seemed more fragrant, more vibrant, and yet more vulnerable to the vulgarity of the times they lived in.  He wanted nothing more than to shed his hardened persona and escape with her, like the first couple, back behind the spinning swords that guarded the entrance to Eden, behind the angels that would hold off the scourge of human bondage and the vendetta that he feared might soon engulf them all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank solasvioletta, bubblegum1425 and peetabreadgirl, my original betas for this fic. SV in particular has stuck with me almost since the beginning and I'd be a perfect doofus without her. You are my gals! 
> 
> I also need to thank nightlockinthecave for the outstanding banners she has made for my fics. She is so gifted and fine - she is also a remarkable writer in her own right. I am lucky for the talent these ladies lend me!
> 
> HG Fanfic Rec: Caged Bird by notanislander
> 
> Please review!


	3. Erzuli's Vision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 2 and 3 were originally one chapter but at 13,000 words total, I decided to split it up and make this one a bit stronger. 
> 
> One note: Mountings in Voodoo are the equivalent of being filled with the Holy Ghost in Christianity. So, when Mother Seeder talks about Loa Erzuli “mounting” her followers, she is literally “filling up” her followers. It has a somewhat sexual connotation because some Voodoo rituals are sexual in nature, especially ones involving Erzuli and Legba, who together form the unifying force of love and sexuality. 
> 
> Thanks to my betas, Solasvioletta, bubblegum1425 and peetebreadgirl and the incomparable nighlockinthecave for the wonderful banner.

** Erzuli's Priestess **

_**I have known many men.** _

_**I have danced Erzuli's dance with a hollow gourd for my heart.** _

_**I have been the dry beach that the ocean’s tide never reaches.** _

_**I have been the mango tree that stands unbent.** _

__

_**But last night, as your hips lay flush against mine,** _

_**And the heavy smell of you weighed the air,** _

_**Erzuli entered me at last** _

_**Filled my empty coconut shell,** _

_**Drenched my lonely sands,** _

_**Ripped the tiny fruit buds from my branches.** _

__

_**I have become Erzuli's priestess** _

_**And I am your servant.** _

__

_**My hands tease the flesh from the stubborn papaya,** _

_**My skin is the swaying leaf of the banana tree.** _

_**You are the ripe cassava stalk rooted deep in the dark soil of my fertile soul.** _

__

_**We dance the dance of love at night** _

_**And play with the promise of release in the crepescules of morning.** _

__

_**Happiness now wears your skin** _

_**And carries your name.** _

__

_**I am the loa of your glistening tongue,** _

_**The spirit of our swollen lips,** _

_**The song of your thighs,** _

_**And you the Serpent of my soul.** _

**\- C. Torres-D'Alessandro, 7/2014**

 

**June, 1790**

"Mother Seeder!" announced Johanna upon her return. Katniss, with studied calm, gathered herself up to greet the medicine woman. Johanna had become ever more aware of Katniss' disorientation and the effect on her nerves. The change in her mistress since the occasion of Capitaine Mellark's acquaintance was not lost on Johanna, provoking her darkest humor against the so-called Bloodhound of Le Cap. It upset her immensely to see Katniss so unnerved and, had it been a less intimidating personage, Johanna would have resolved the situation in the only way she understood to solve things - through her secret connections and black tricks. As it was, Capitaine Mellark was not to be trifled with and, even worse, it would be the very object of her devotion, Katniss, who would suffer the most from her plot. And Johanna could no more hurt Katniss than she could change the color of her skin.

"I...yes, of course." mumbled Katniss absently as she forced herself to become composed to receive Mother Seeder. Katniss surreptitiously cast her glance to the gilded red box, where her friends left their payments, and felt her stomach clench in anxiety. Lifting her chin almost defiantly against the debilitating feeling, she awaited the older woman's examination.

It was difficult to find Mother Seeder if she did not want to be found - many were her allies and friends. But Johanna, with her shadow connections that rivaled those of the Capitaine himself, could always locate her quickly. The old priestess had a fondness for those two mulatta girls that did not allow her to deny them audience. A renowned medicine woman, Mother Seeder was one of the few negroes that both freemen and slaves alike respected. It was said she flew along the winds of midnight and during voodoo ceremonies, required no chants or incantations to become filled with the spirit of Loa Erzuli, for of all the people on that island, she was the most beloved to the goddess for her devotion and skill. She could assist at the most difficult of childbirths, heal illnesses that not even the great military doctor, Finnick Odair (who often came to study at her elbow) had the means to cure and led the great voodoo ceremonies for the free and enslaved alike.

Johanna had found her in the home of Annie Odair, a mulatta free-born with three copper-haired children whose father was none other than the great Doctor Odair himself. As was common on this island of contradictions and social stratifications, mulatta women were kept by their white "husbands" without the privilege of marriage because it was alternately illegal (depending on the mood of the French Parliament) and socially disdained. This, however, did not keep the more valiant amongst the society from venturing into variations of that vaunted institution in defiance of the law. It was well-known that Odair was amongst those who not only disdained the opinion of society but was an open abolitionist. This would have kept a lesser citizen from the interactions of good society were it not for his renown as one of the best military doctors on the island.

All this, of course, was until now beyond Katniss' awareness, having never been very interested in matters of gossip, marriage or family, at least, not until Capitaine Mellark had presented her with his offer. She found his proposal afflicted her day and night for both its desirability and complete potential to disrupt the hard-earned yet fragile equilibrium of her life. How could she describe her state of mind to Johanna, who seemed hostile to all mention of the Capitaine? She feared she would be equally unsuccessful in discussing the matter with the old priestess.

Mother Seeder raised her hand in benediction, the wrinkles of at least 100 years quivering on her benevolent face under her smile. Her silver hair was a mass of tight curls like a halo around her head, an ivory bone embedded like a fine comb. She was not dressed in the high French fashion but in the simple, traditional shift of the island natives. She carried two ancient leather pouches around her neck and several coral bracelets with small figures carved on each link like charms. No one was sure of her age but it was rumored that she had seen the island first colonized. It was an impossibility in rational terms but that did not keep the islanders from believing the most outlandish aspects of her reputation. Like Katniss, Mother Seeder benefitted from the overzealous imaginations of the people around them to construct a reputation that, under examination, would exceed the limits of human logic.

As the three ladies sat, Katniss felt herself become pure, vibrating energy. She found herself on the very spot Capitaine Mellark had sat that fateful night and the memory of it was not lost on her body. Even under her composure, her heart raced and her mouth went dry. She feared at that moment she might lose her senses when Little Rue emerged from the kitchen with a small tea set, walking on silent feet towards the brocade settee. Katniss concentrated on Rue's movements, so like those of a small bird, as she set the tray on the small wood table before the three ladies. She curtseyed without looking Mother Seeder in the eye, a habit she occasionally lapsed into when she became nervous. Looking a master or freeborn of any color in the eye was a punishable offense but Katniss was not like most masters and could not tolerate that act of obeisance in her home.

"Rue!" Katniss hissed.

Mother Seeder observed the young girl. "Yes, dear. You are amongst friends. Look up at your equals, my child."

Katniss sat in a state of petrified shock. It was as if the older woman had read her mind. When Rue raised her dark brown eyes to Mother Seeder, the older woman signaled for the girl to come to her so she could place her gnarled hand upon the girl's forehead.

"Blessed child of Erzuli's magic, eat one egg each day and avoid the heat of midday. You must take special care of yourself. You know of what I speak?" asked the medicine woman gently. Johanna threw Rue a sharp look as the girl began to shake but Mother Seeder was able to calm even that terrified spirit. The older woman took Rue's hand and stroked the unease away.

"Yes, Mother Seeder." said Rue, barely above a whisper.

"Is she ill?" asked Katniss, momentarily forgetting her agitation in concern over her ward.

"No, not ill - blessed. Loa Erzuli has touched this girl. She will reveal her secrets in her own time, just as the moon becomes full in her time." Dismissing Rue, she turned towards Katniss, directing her next comments to her. "She is not the only one who has been touched by the Loas."

Katniss felt the blush of shame creep up her neck and, as she often did when in need of calming, gently clasped the pearl around her neck. "Johanna can be overly cautious with me at times. It is only my nerves that torment me."

"Child," commented Mother Seeder gently. "Johanna is more than concerned about you. Johannna," she said, "would you bring a metal plate? Not too deep. My vision isn't what it once was." Mother Seeder chuckled to herself.

When Johanna left, she undid the leather tie of her necklace and opened the pouch. She set it on the table and a collection of bones and pebbles peeked out. These were the the implements of those ancient rituals that Seeder always carried with her. She wore another pouch around her neck, most likely a mojo bag similar to the ones Rue, Johanna and other slaves and even some mulattoes wore around their necks but the contents of those bags were never revealed.

Taking Katniss' hand gently in hers, she said "I will examine you for illness now." Chanting to herself, the older woman proceeded to evaluate Katniss. For her part, Katniss did as she was told, breathing in and out, moving her braid when it encumbered, widening her eyes and lips at the woman's request but she knew the older woman would find nothing. Johanna had since returned and sat in tense silence, waiting for Seeder to finish her examination.

"You do not appear ill," she said this as she ended her ministrations, "At least, not in body." She removed the contents of her pouch and let them tumble into the metal dish, the delicate sound of their clinking lilting through the small house. She reached around to Katniss' braid and without warning, undid the thick rope of glossy hair. She isolated a strand from each side of her head and yanked two from her scalp, earning a suppressed yelp from Katniss.

"Sorry, dear. The Loas can be so very demanding," she chuckled again as she dropped Katniss' hair into the metal dish. She swirled her dry concoction and began chanting again. Until that moment, Katniss had sat patiently, repressing her skepticism, quite unmoved by the spectacle of the dark, wrinkled woman who seemed to radiate benevolence, laboring over her with the tools of her trade. But as Mother Seeder chanted, the rhythmic swishing of the dish filling the room, her skin began to tingle, and her heart raced in her chest. She felt her eyes flutter shut of their own volition. She was no longer a woman in her sitting room but a slithering, floating snake among the clouds over the mountains of this island, studying the mists that draped the peaks dividing the French half from its Spanish half. To the north were the legendary blue waters of the Mer du Nord, the glass-like surface erupting into shards of violent waves as they crashed against the rocky outcropping of the North Island. Sea creatures of all types, from gulls to dolphins danced along the edges of the sea foam, the undulating currents seeming to lap their warmth onto every inch of her skin.

There was so much tranquility in her flight that Katniss was unprepared for the terror that crept over her as she suddenly plunged through clouds, the tender billows turning grey in anguish and torment. A sob ripped itself from her chest as the clouds became smoke, the sea-salt air turned acrid with the smell of burnt flesh. She heard the thunderous pounding of hooves and human feet against the ground and screams replaced the crying seagulls. But soon it was not the howl of murdered souls but her own wails that filled her ears. As she reached through the fires, it was his name that she kept calling and though she never saw him, she could feel him receding from her. The utter grief of that moment was so overwhelming, she was forced awake by strong arms that rocked her back and forth.

Katniss was no longer on the settee but sprawled on the floor, reclining against Johanna's egs as her friend held her in place. Katniss' eyes went wide with the feeling of tears moistening her face and the strangeness of her position. Mother Seeder appeared lost in thought while Johanna's face twisted in worry for her friend.

"What happened?" Katniss half-sobbed.

Mother Seeder gave the girl a small but worried smile as both she and Johanna helped her back to her seat. "Erzuli has filled you with a vision." Mother Seeder gathered her pebbles and bones as Johanna fetched them both a cool drink. Katniss meanwhile was exhausted and thought she could sleep for days. She had never given credence to the island's more outrageous beliefs but today her skepticism had been tested.

"What does all of this mean?" she asked in a small voice, the terror of her vision lingering over her.

"Ah...," said Mother Seeder distractedly. "Erzuli is a powerful spirit. She, together with her husband, Legba, are the force of love in nature. Erzuly obeys no one and is as fierce as she is beautiful. She is jealous and stubborn but she is also the power that makes animals become human. She is very elegant and highly selective of her favorites. When she descends on a woman, she selects those who are most like her in temperament."

Mother Seeder's eyes darkened and she became serious. "She is also easily wounded and her mountings often end in tears. Her gifts are generous but they come with a great price." Mother Seeder leaned forward as she continued to speak to Katniss, reaching out a gnarled finger to gently swipe the pearl that rested on Katniss' chest. "She is the truth of love - that it is beautiful but jealous, liberating yet possessive, persistent but also painful. Your love with the Capitaine will be no different."

Katniss's eyes narrowed in suspicion at this. "How do you know of the Capitaine?"

Mother Seeder laughed, her entire body shaking with mirth. "I know nothing but Erzuli knows all."

Katniss could not suppress her suspicion despite the evidence that some supernatural event had indeed occurred. She rejected the vision, for she did not wish to be another tragic heroine in a star-crossed love story. Her life was stable, predictable and well-known to her. Why should she complicate her existence with a sentimental disaster?

As if reading her thoughts, Johanna interjected. "It must not be so. She is prosperous as she is. The future is not written in stone."

Mother Seeder gave Johanna a penetrating look. "True. But Erzuli does not tell only the future. She speaks of the conditions of things as they are in the present. Your friend is under Erzuli's influence. The snake of desire has already taken root. This is your friend's affliction. She can decide what she wishes but Erzuli's magic is strong, for it is the magic of life, the most powerful magic that exists. Even the most indifferent and violent Loas bow before it. We poor little creatures have no chance against it." At this, the old lady stood. "Now, I wish to speak to Rue before I leave. I will return for my payment." With that, she wandered into the small room where Rue slept.

Katniss watched her leave but did not see her. Such was the tumult in her heart. How had Mother Seeder been able to conjure the feeling of flight? For Katniss was convinced it was all trickery. And the Capitaine? Surely Johanna had mentioned him! But Katniss' knowledge of her companion's unimpeachable discretion rendered even this impossible.

Worse than all was the loss. Something terrible had been prefigured in her vision, a loss so great, it even now brought the prickling of tears to her eyes, though she lacked all details but one - the one that mattered most - that somehow the Capitaine was involved.

Katniss was an expert in the arts of pleasure. But she was no better than the nuns at St. Albino's in the matter of the occult or romantic love, which to her were beginning to appear one and the same.

Johanna observed Katniss for a moment before smoothing out her dress and standing up. She collected the tea set and without a word cleared the room and fetched Mother Seeder's payment. When the old woman left, Johanna fidgeted a while longer before stopping in front of Katniss with downcast eyes.

"You are my sister and my friend. I have been a poor confident of late and I beg your forgiveness. I will abide any decision that you make," she said with uncharacteristic tenderness.

Katniss looked up from the whirlwind of her thoughts. "Thank you," she whispered in sincere gratitude.

"But if he so much as breathes a false note, he will wear his balls as a token around his neck," she hissed as her eyes flashed, her ferocity returning.

Katniss burst out into much needed laughter that dispelled the strangeness of what had just come to pass. "Well said, dear one. Well said!"

**XXXXX**

One week after Mother Seeder's visit, Katniss woke hours before her usual time with a premonition. Unable to recapture sleep, she dressed distractedly, brushing out her hair long until it was shiny and unknotted after which she braided it so that it roped along her left shoulder. She wanted nothing more than to gather a bit of fresh air in her lungs to rid herself of the fist of tension that had taken up residence in her chest. She thought a visit to the market with Rue might be the distraction she needed to still her fluttering nerves.

Johanna was already departed for her rounds and Rue was busy reviewing the pantry so Katniss prepared the strong coffee and mashed ripe plantains that constituted her usual breakfast. She was transported by her memories of the convent and the warm cornmeal and milk sweetened with honey that she was given each day for breakfast, with either a mango or a banana. Some days she had Rue prepare it for her, more out of nostalgia than appetite. She knew better than to return to St. Albino's, though the desire to visit her old room was strong. During her time there, she had been unbearably lonely, yet her affection for the almost hermetic life of quiet and solitary meditation was the closest she had ever felt to being herself. The wild gardens that overran the land immediately outside the convent walls were a refuge to her. She recalled sitting for hours, especially when she first lost her mother, gaining solidity from the immediacy of the vines, the swirling insects and the diamond-like drops of dew on the waxy leaves of the wild plantain trees. She was not happy - how could she be? She'd been left adrift without the two people who should have cared for her above all others. But she had felt safe and it was this that she missed after the terrifying days of grief that accompanied her parents' death.

"Katniss," Rue trilled quietly, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"Yes," Katniss responded distractedly. She turned around to see Rue holding her shopping basket.

"The fish vendor is passing and I do not wish to miss him this time…" she trailed off.

"Off course! I must, in any case, complete my toilette," Katniss lied, grateful that she would have time to recover from her melancholy before setting off to the main market. Rue slipped quietly out of the house as Katniss resumed her place at the window, leaning forlornly against the border. The anxiety she'd felt only yesterday had become a familiar sadness. The persistent hunger that had consumed her in these weeks had spent itself, and malformed into an aching hollow in her soul. Mother Seeder's visit had not made her healthier, though her nerves no longer importuned Johanna; Katniss' seeming equanimity had calmed her friend's fear for her well-being. However the veil of serenity hid a gaping emptiness inside of her, one caused by the persistence of the Capitaine's absence, the fear that he may have reconsidered his petition, and she was overwhelmed with a sudden distaste for everything that constituted her life until that moment.

Her eyes roamed the dusty, dry road, though it held no interest for her whatsoever, when she caught sight of the rustle of Rue's light yellow skirts beneath a large tree of thick foliage. Indeed, it was there that the fish vendor had stopped but something in Rue's attitude piqued Katniss' curiosity. There was a smile on Rue's face that she had never seen in all the time the girl had lived with her, a smile that announced the arrival of something, or someone, so dear, she appeared transported. She stepped behind the cart and it was then that Katniss saw him for the first time - a tall, thickly muscled black boy with a smile that seemed to be the soul's compliment to Rue's own. Katniss straightened up, her heart inexplicably racing at the intimation of feeling between Rue and this boy, an intimation confirmed when the handsome, smiling boy bent his head to kiss Rue on the delicate line of her jaw. Katniss' hand flew up to her mouth when he suddenly gripped her by the waist, both of them disappearing behind the trunk of the large tree. The intention and familiarity of his hold on her held no questions or doubts of any kind - theirs was a familiar intimacy.

Katniss leaned away from the window, feeling like a thief for having stolen this moment from the two young lovers. The Katniss of one month ago would have waited for Rue and scolded her for her behavior with the boy, admonishing her that not even Katniss permitted herself such displays with the men who frequented her. She would have warned the girl against the danger of giving a man too much, without demanding some gift or reward in turn. Though Rue was was not a courtesan by profession, all women were such by nature and should demand precious things in exchange for Erzuli's fruit, the one all men sought after in their pursuit of women, whether high-born or slave.

Instead, Katniss' heart softened with hope and tenderness. _Let them love_ , she scolded her baser self. For people surely died for want of it; even more sadly, they perished without knowing the deficit, did not realize that in a hazardous existence, the pure, incorruptibility of love was to be sought after like the most precious prize. And when a person was so favored by the Loas to find their love, they should not let him go in the morning, with promises to think about what had been so freely offered but should, without hesitation, grasp that precious moment and never let it go again. Katniss's heart withered further as she withdrew from observing the young couples to wandering the sad places of her mind.

The pounding of hooves against the stones of the road below her home roused Katniss from her stupor, especially as they slowed the nearer they came to where she was. She wiped her hands and cast a curious glance down the opposite end of her road. She had not been swift enough to capture who had dismounted but the large, white steed was visible in the copse of trees reserved for the repose of those beasts just within the public stables. Before she could wonder at the animal, a rapping at her door startled her, causing the precious pearl to leap against the spot over her pounding heart. Katniss smoothed out the folds of her dress, unconsciously tucking a stray strand of her ebony hair behind her ear before turning the latch of the large wooden door.

At that moment, Katniss realized her memory would never do Capitaine Mellark justice. No matter how handsome he appeared in her dreams and visions, the reality would always cause those fantasies to fade away. She was lost before his flushed expression and bright eyes filled with expectation and fear.

"Y-You've returned," she said, her voice faltering.

"As I swore I would," he responded gently, holding his hat in hand. He was as pressed and orderly as the first night he came to her, every line of his blue uniform erect, each button in place, not a wrinkle to be found on his white shirt. He had worn his medals and only the dust from riding, perhaps at full gallop, interrupted the elegant perfection of his appearance. He waited at the threshold, his eyes soft and patient as Katniss stood at the precipice of her vision, the floating snake plunging into flames before vacillating between two extremes of sentiment - to soar with the promise of certain suffering or to close the door forever and never know that abandon of being inextricably bound to him.

She stepped aside in silent entreaty for him to enter. As she carefully closed and locked the door, he stood in the small anteroom beside the red gilded box. They hungrily took in the sight of each other, immobilized by the sentiment of each finding themselves before the object of their greatest desires. Finally, Peeta ended their awkward and mutual admiration.

"You appear well," he said, tentatively stretching out his gloved hand to sweep the wisp of hair Katniss had tried to tame earlier behind her ear, the crisp material of his glove ghosting over the pearl that peeked above the bodice of her simple green dress before he dropped it to his side.

"Indeed, sir. I am quite well," she whispered, sure her nerves were on full display. She straightened herself, attempting to shore up her quickly fading composure. "I have forgotten myself, sir. May I offer you refreshment?"

"No, thank you. I do not wish to tarry any longer if you do not desire it." The Capitaine drew himself up to his full height. "M'lady, I have done nothing more than dream of you this long month. I have calculated my offer and found it ever wanting but my heart will not listen to reason. I can no more consider withdrawing my offer to marry you than I could cease breathing. I am quite certain that another could make you perhaps happier and more comfortable. You have your loyal servants, your patrons and many who surely cherish you. But you are the only one who makes me happy. There is no one else I love. If you have made your considerations, please give your answer and end my agonies once and for all."

Katniss was stunned by his ardor and though she recalled the passionate nature of his proposal, she also discounted it as a trick of her imagination and the treachery of a hopeful memory. But now she saw on his honor that his intent was the same as that fateful night. An extraordinary hope like a soaring bird welled up inside of her and without a word, she took his gloved hand and removed the taut, suffocating material, tugging gently at the tips of his fingers. Setting the glove carefully on the credenza next to her gilded red box, she brought his palm up to her lips and pressed a kiss there. Closing his hand over her offering, she gave him a nervous smile.

"I am not as eloquent as you, sir, but do know that the sun has not risen or set once that I have not in some way had communion with you in memory or spirit. I..." here her nerves caused her to falter, "I accept your offer, Peeta."

His eyes grew wide at the familiar use of his name and a thrill overtook him body and soul, a thrill he could not contain as he captured her and pulled her to him, caressing her face gently before bringing his lips to hers. She sank into the warmth of his arms, her whole body releasing the nervous tension that had held her prisoner these last weeks, escaping her like a long sigh into the air. He sensed her softening against him and pulled back when they had their fill of each other's lips to study her, his hands roaming her body. He was already uncomfortable in his britches, each stroke of their hands on each other heating him even more.

Katniss was impatient and whimpered against his lips as he reclaimed her. She wanted nothing more than to ensconce herself with him in her room, to relieve the longing for him that had nearly crippled her. She tugged him gently in the hopes of displacing him from that space but he would not be moved. He stepped back, breathing heavily and turned to the ornate red box on the credenza.

"I have one bit of business I must yet attend," he said with utter seriousness. Picking up the red box, he handed it to her. "Empty it," he entreated gently in a low voice as if he were whispering a secret.

Katniss overturned the box onto the credenza, large bills and calling cards falling out. She began to speak, to explain that it was all a profession for her, just a means to an end. None of them mattered, no one ever mattered to her until now but he placed a finger on her lips to quiet her confused words.

"Nothing that happened before this moment is important to me. I will not ask for explanations and you will not apologize." He turned to the open window, taking the box in hand and hurled it against the pavement below. The box exploded in a violent shower of red wooden shards and gold plating, the force so powerful that the white steed started, whinnying in protest.

Turning back to her, Peeta took her hand and led her to where he knew her bedroom to be. With nervous hands, he stood behind her and undid the ornate laces of her bodice, unthreading the infernal ties with infinite patience. When he was satisfied that the material would not tear, he pulled her dress down over her, his hands sweeping across her exposed skin like the gentle lapping waves of her imaginary lake. With the same slow patience, he removed her corset, loosening her soft curves from the rigid constraints of that material.

Katniss's arms hung limp at her side yet despite his most pedestrian touch, she began to feel like a wound up doll, the coil in her belly tensing, flooding her core with moisture. To be so attended, as if he had usurped Rue's servitude, was both disconcerting and erotic at turns.

He tugged her underthings over her hips until the frilly material pooled at her slippered feet. He then undid her braid, running his fingers through her hair to loosen the knots that may have formed but they were few and soon her hair hung low and loose to her waist. When his work was complete, he turned her around and stepped back to admire her with hooded eyes. Katniss trembled under his scrutiny, which he did not desist as he began to undress before her, removing the layers and layers of fabric, buttons, pins, and laces until he stood in his own nakedness, every scar, every muscle placed before her. Katniss' eyes traveled the length of him - in the light of day, the contours of his body were more highlighted and her eyes followed the lines of his scars, the furrows of hair around his chest, his navel, and still lower...

He reached out to toy with the pearl necklace he'd given her, a small smile dancing at the corner of his lips. As if reading his mind, Katniss whispered "I never removed it, not even once."

The small smile widened and he scooped her chin in his calloused hands and kissed her, first tenderly, than more feverishly, his arm circling around her waist to pull her flush against him. Katniss gasped at the feeling of the entire hard, muscular length of his body pressed against her, skin upon skin. She ground her belly against his erection, causing him to moan in turn as her hands slithered up to his hair, splaying to capture the golden waves and tug at them. He hungrily kissed her neck and her shoulders, large hands cupping her breasts.

Peeta felt her increased fire, the heat emanating from her and wanted very much to please her slowly but he was too excited, too eager, to do much more. It had been so very long - the endless, steamy nights in the hot jungle, when all he dreamed of was her, of loving her until they were both limp with exhaustion. He needed to bury himself inside of her, to lose himself in her slick warmth as he had so often dreamed. Pushing her back onto the bed, she moved to the middle as he crawled over her, his erection throbbing in expectation.

He reached between them and found that bundle of nerves that had already proven to cause her so much pleasure, using his fingers to make her moan. Her wetness made him pant, his excitement driving the assault of his lips on her taut, firm breasts, nipping the soft skin before drawing her nipples out as she arched against him.

Peeta pushed two fingers inside of her as his thumb continued to apply pressure on the center of her pleasure. Watching her body climb towards its climax, he whispered, "I want to know every curve of your body, every corner of your soul. You are an undiscovered land that I would claim for my own."

"Peeta," she moaned in passionate agony, spiraling upwards as she had done many times in her dreams of him, until the tension broke and she was falling, her body arching and shaking as the waves of pleasure rolled over her body.

As he kissed her, she grabbed his rigid cock in hand and bathed him in her arousal, eliciting a groan from him that vibrated against the skin of her chest. She rotated her hips as she used his cock to stimulate her. He looked into her eyes gone black with desire while she continued her torture, studying the results of her movements as they caused his face to crumple with thwarted need.

"You would trifle with me?" he gasped as she rubbed him up and down her folds, a sly smirk of satisfaction on her lips. His hips bucked involuntarily in her hand and the feeling of her small, wet fingers tormenting him was more than he could bear. Shaking his head at her game, he plunged into her, wrapping her legs around him. He caught her by surprise but soon her yelps turned into moans and incomprehensible words in Creole, words she shared with him but whose meaning she reserved only for herself. Pumping into her with a furious desperation, his face became flushed with the exertion of his body crashing into hers.

"Be still, _mon Capitaine_ ," she whispered in his ear. Katniss clasped his hips and pulled him toward her, holding him in place as she rotated her hips, which made him close to delirious. She dipped and raised her hips beneath him, squeezing and releasing her internal muscles, massaging his shaft as she continued her dance until he could no longer recognize who he was, where he had ever been before this moment. Unable to bear the delicious sensation of her movements, he pulled her hands up above her head and held them in place, covering her face in sweet kisses not unlike the first time they were together, when she had rained her kisses down on him. He slowed his rhythm, sliding in and out of her until they both whimpered with their need for completion. Still he continued his controlled torture, pressing his forehead to hers and watching her face change, following her glorious ascent until she could reach no further. Her body trembled around him, beneath him and he marveled at the miracle of her perfection. Still she held herself from falling over the precipice of her desire for him, the habit of deferring her own pleasure too ingrained in her habit.

"Let go, Katniss," he said through gritted teeth, determined that she should have her pleasure before his climax. Perhaps it was his permission or the way her name sounded on his lips but she did, indeed, let go just as he groaned in abandon, his face contorting in the sweet agony of a release long held at bay. Her body became fire and rain and all the tempests of the jungle wound into her feminine form. In the deepest hours of the night, much later, after they had taken their long fill of each other, she would swear that he had not been inside of her but had become a part of her as her spirit rose up to dance with his. If hers was the soul of tropical storms and roaring waves, then his was the calming wind of spring, the trilling cicadas in the night and the mourning doves at dawn. If she burned, he soothed. If she raged, he tamed her. And so they twined their contrary souls about each other and the stark contrasts of the world stilled to admit their union into the pantheon of things that must be, that had always been since the Loas woke to the glory of creation.

 

 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XXXXX
> 
> HG Fanfic Rec: The Medic by loudman1. Summary: Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen recover from the traumatic effects of war and find love and comfort with each other.
> 
> Chapter 4 will post after Prompts in Panem, Starting October 12th. Be sure to check out all the great stories in this final writing challenge.
> 
> I am behind on responding to reviews but I will catch up this week. Thanks to everyone who commented! They are very motivating.


	4. Erzuli Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erzuli and her aspects - The Loa, Erzuli, is the most beloved of the Loas because of her extraordinary beauty, and her status as lover, wife, protector and avenger. She represents the feminine in all its compexity. While she has several aspects, there are four that I will work with in this fic:
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> Ayida Wedo - Wife of Dumballah, the oldest Loa, she is the rainbow and, like her husband, takes the form of a snake. He is the East or the Sun and she is the Moon. Together, they are the unifying force of life.
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> Erzuli Freda - Wife of Legba, this is the aspect that I deal with the most. She is the goddess of love, sexuality, flirtation, passion and art. She is depicted as exceptionally beautiful and flirtatious. Gay men enjoy special protection under her providence. She also represents the suffering of love, and the imperfection of a world that cannot contain her ideal of love. She was often called upon by slave women forcibly separated from their families.
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> Erzuli La Sirena - She is the wife of Agwe, the Loa of Water. She is also associated with sexuality but in its aspect of fidelity. She is represented as a mermaid who bestows health and gifts on her devotees but only in secrecy. Her great gift is that of healing.
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> Erzuli Dantor - She is actually not married but her lover is also her son. She is depicted as dark and fierce. She is the protector of women and children and the avenger of those who would wrong them. Lesbians enjoy special protection under her providence.
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> Throughout this fic, you will also see a pervasive use of images strongly associated with this belief system. This is particularly true of snakes, which have a strong sexual connotation and is associated with both Aida Wedo and Dumballah.
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> Now, onto more important matters…

 

 

**Banner by the amazing[loving-mellark](loving-mellark.tumblr.com)!**

 

**_Beautiful Creole woman [...]_ **

**_When you talk, you make me lose control_ **

**_And a little kiss from you makes my feet come out from under me_ **

**_Your beautiful little voice is like a nightingale_ **

**_Beautiful Creole woman_ **

**_Come closer to me so I can say something to you_ **

**_In that good way of the Creole language_ **

**_Things that I didn’t learn at school_ **

**_Because my woman is a Creole girl_ **

**_Who always makes me feel like flying_ **

 

**from _Beautiful Creole Woman_ , 25 Goud Poems translated by Irene Pruitt**

 

**July, 1790**

 

**_Katniss_ **

 

Katniss loved the early morning, when the rising sun teased light from the blanket of darkness that rested snug against the horizon. Her island was a blessed one. Nature had given it the sea, over which the Loas danced, the mountains over which they sang, and the jungles in between where they played. She was still unsure of the power of such things - she left superstitions to the common folk, embracing the Rationalism that her father had taken care to instill. She was a rarity among women of almost any station except those of the highest ranks - she was educated, possessing a mind trained towards logic and practicality that was rare to find among the natives of this island

 

She recalled the nuns at St. Albino, and the ruthlessness with which they taught their Catholic stories, instructing her on the correct form of rituals, and the proper obeisance to all the saints, as if the dogmatic teachings of the first invaders could wipe the memory of the ancient Loas from the collective memories of the native people.  Katniss had found safety and order in the ranks of the nuns, though their teachings had only superficially penetrated her soul.

 

But as she cast her glance to her side, where the Capitaine, nay, _her_ Capitaine, lay in exhausted slumber, she wondered if she had underestimated the realms of magic that lay hidden in the legends of her people, just as those nuns had.  Because there was no other explanation for the lightning that had struck her life when he had appeared. Had she been unwise to disdain the power of her ancestors? Did she not avail herself of their wisdom - when she was ill, did she not call Mother Seeder before anyone else to tend her ailments and bring her spiritual and physical peace?  Did she not own a mojo bag, given to her by her own mother, which she treated with as much care as her diamonds, though she’d never deigned to wear it?  Did she not turn her back on the raging sea during the new moon, careful not to look over her left shoulder, for fear of being infected by the vengeful spirits of the dead who escaped the island beneath the sea to torment the living?

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Peeta stirring beside her as he turned to rest his arm over her waist.  She felt her skin come alive, small tendrils of sensation racing over her, causing her womb to clench in painful anticipation. The loss of control of her body at the mere idea of his touch was new and terrifying to her. She had acquitted herself well as a courtesan, mastering arts that other women had never imagined existed. But she had been the orchestrator of others’ pleasure, delivering an opera of ecstasy to her attendants without savoring the notes herself.

 

But with this man, this _blan nonm_ , _Capitaine_ , conqueror of her people, lord of an island that belonged to no one; from this man emanated another energy that flowed through her whenever he was near. She’d felt it the moment she’d knelt before him on that fateful day, when he’d chased her through the market. It was a philosophy beyond that of rationalism, superstition or religion, older than the ground they walked upon. She searched for the words to define the force that compelled her towards Peeta and made love a trifle in comparison. It’s existence warred against her reason, which dictated that she take care, be cautious and not abandon herself so entirely to this mad obsession.

 

When she looked upon his face, she told herself she did not know him. And yet her soul possessed a surety that both comforted and terrified her, as if she remembered him from a nebulous era before time. Her mind continued to deliver rebuttal after logical rebuttal against her attachment until she was a cacophony of discord.

 

She still had not resolved the dilemma when his eyes finally opened. She could not name it and resigned herself to that uncertainty, unable to resist the entreaty in his eyes.  She lowered her head to kiss his still swollen lips, that ineffable thing between them lighting up her soul.  

 

" _Mon Capitaine,"_ she whispered, her nose mere inches from his drowsy face.

 

"No..." he answered groggily.  “Not _Capitaine_. I command no one when I am with you.”

 

“How easily you abdicate your power, _mèt mwen._ Certainly, the French Army demands more fortitude of its soldiers.”

 

Peeta smiled, a slow, sensuous smile that still smelled of sleep and of them. Katniss repressed a shiver, in that moment, her internal struggle alighting upon the conclusion that it was all a primitive spell, and perhaps she should not resist the decree of the Gods.  Her logic protested weakly, exhausted from it’s constant battle.  Meanwhile, Peeta pulled her down to him, her hair a spray of dark sea water over his face.  He bit into the tender flesh that connected her neck to her shoulder, causing her to yelp in surprise before he laved the spot with his tongue.

 

“I am no more than a servant in your bed, _metrès mwen_.  Command me as you will,” he said against her neck, his lips weaving a web into which she became entangled.  She was standing at the precipice again.  If she did not step away, she would plunge again into the mindless insistence of his desire.

 

 _“Lè w manyen m, kè m pran dife <When you touch me, my heart catches fire>,”_ she whispered before she pulled back, just out of reach of his lips. Her rationality asserted itself again and she welcomed the cooling of her blood that only reason could bring. “But you will not entrap me again with your devilish hands and lips, _mèt mwen._ Our mutual ignorance may enchant, even entice, but love cannot long grow in darkness without the light of knowledge. I must know all there is to know about you. My heart demands it.”

 

Peeta closed his eyes, hiding their textured, magnetic blue temporarily from her, and she felt that small loss acutely. Katniss watched as he nodded to himself in approval.

 

“Very well.  However, I am hard pressed to think on matters of youth and family when you lie so easily within reach of me. I have very little _fortitude_ to employ in resisting such temptations as those you offer in your nakedness.”

 

“I can soon remedy that.” She said as she rose with determination from her place on the bed, searching for her dressing gown, hoping her befuddled mind would give way to clarity, perhaps upon understanding his story.  The heat of his eyes followed her, taking in her every naked curve as she moved around the room.  She felt a rush of moisture in her sex, though she was sore from their revels of that night. "I will dress and ask Rue to prepare our breakfast, after which time we may recount our histories with the proper modesty," she said.

 

He placed his hands behind his head and watched her bumble about the room. She became disoriented from his attention, forgetting where everything was stored, though she was careful to leave her possessions in meticulous order. She was breathless as she rummaged through her dresses, her confusion only increasing until she felt a warm, calloused hand on her back, stilling her frenzy.

 

"Katniss..." he whispered, turning her around.  His eyes were dark with need, but it was his cock that distracted her, lunging prominently from his narrow hips.  

 

"I'm sorry...I can't find..." but his lips soon covered hers, drowning out whatever remaining thoughts she might have had.  

 

" _Ma perle_..." he muttered, dropping kisses across her shoulders, kissing along the chain until his mouth landed on the spot between her breasts where his pearl rested. With his touch, he set that immortal thing ablaze between them, suffocating her every thought and action.

 

"I have lived a month without you, and a lifetime before. Let me have you once again before good sense and obligation force me away from you.  I have dreamed you naked, felt your skin as a phantom brushes the living, the vision of you never enough to satisfy me." His mouth was on her stomach, his tongue swirling, penetrating her belly button.  He was a lion at her feet, restrained yet feral. How she wanted him!  He would consume her with his hunger and god help her, she wanted to be consumed.

 

"Oh, Peeta. You make a mockery of good sense and a farce of obligation.  Does it not distress you that we are so besotted, without antecedent or reason?”

 

Peeta looked up at her from the triangle of her core, pausing in his descent.  “I do not question the sun for rising, or the moon for waning. Why would I question this?”

 

Katniss shook her head, trying to capture a thought and hold onto it until it reached maturation. But her ideas became shredded ribbons, waving wildly in the wind as his tongue flicked between her folds.  The soreness was a counterpoint to the intense pleasure of his lips and the rough stubble against her tender flesh. She could not formulate anything more as he leaned her gently against her armoire and hooked her leg over his shoulder.  Her sharp intake of breath accompanied his lips as he flicked his tongue from her entry to that tiny swell from which all her pleasure was born, the heat blossoming from her skin like a field of spring flowers.  Katniss’s eyes fluttered closed as she focused on the feeling of his lips against her skin.  Before she was completely deprived of every means of communication beyond moaning and crying out, she gasped, “You dismiss your intellect in favor of your emotions. But if you must, then have me, _mèt mwen._ Have me and do with me as you like!"  As she said this, his mouth found her core, sore yet ravenous for his touch.  "I have no defense against you."

 

Peeta smiled as he looked up at her, his chin glistening with her moisture. “I accept the terms of your surrender, _ma perle_. You are my prisoner, to do with as I please.”

 

Katniss writhed against him as he returned to his labors, his fingers running up the inside of her leg until the tips found her core. With infinite gentleness, he slipped a finger, then two, inside of her.  His lips encircled her and sucked, at first haphazardly, then methodically, his rhythm as he plunged and sucked on her building a crescendo that spread like quicksilver through her.  Her chest heaved as he became more insistent, watching her every reaction, as if he would etch her face in his memory.  She fell apart with a shout, her breasts taut with readiness. When the clenching spiraled through her body from her core to the very tips of her toes, her knees buckled beneath her. She would have fallen had Peeta not caught her and laid her gently on the bed.

 

“Katniss, Katniss…” he whispered as he widened her legs and settled himself between them, his length stiff and impatient, twitching at her entrance.  “You belonged to me before the idea of us came into being…” he said, his eyes practically glowing. Katniss was mesmerized by his transformation as he sank into her, his cock diving and soaring within her like a snake. He was in the grip of an otherworldly passion and swallowed her with it, each lunge and thrust of his hips a wordless plea for her to join him.  She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him to her, kissing him, splaying her fingers through his damp, blond hair.  

 

Soon his face changed, and she saw the moment of agony approaching before his surrender. When his fingers brushed her centered, she tingled as the tension wound her tightly until it overtook her, and she fell into the open void, the sea rising up to capture and swallow her in waves both wild and undulating.  She shouted his name over and over, _Peeta, Peeta, Peeta_ , like an incantation and he responded by falling also, thrashed about by the same force that seized her until they washed up on shore together, bodies worn but sated.

 

“ _Mon dieu_ …” he whispered, as if he were returning to himself after a brief excursion into the spirit world.

 

“ _Mon dieu_ ,” she responded, at a loss for words and lay silently in his embrace until time and their own bodies demanded otherwise.

 

**XXXXX**

 

The communion she sought came to her soon after, not modestly, but as they lay wrapped about each other.  Peeta told her of his small family, his father, the baker, the cruelty of his mother who drove him away to join the army. He had two brothers to whom he wrote - the oldest who inherited their father’s bakery and the middle one, who became a merchant.  It was the destiny of younger sons to seek out their own fortune, and Peeta was a naturally curious soul, desperate to see the world and all that was in it.  He glanced down at Katniss, running his finger over her lips.

 

“I would not have found you, had I remained at home to bake bread.”

 

Katniss smiled, nipping his finger before answering, “You are free to practice this natural vocation whenever your heart longs for home.”

 

Peeta laughed. Then he requested the same of Katniss, and she told her story in her own words - her parent's deaths, her time in St. Albino's, Madame Trinket's apprenticeship, meeting Johanna - all the particulars with unflinching candor. Some things he admitted to knowing from his own research, a fact that did not disturb her.  It confirmed that he had a natural desire to know as much about her as she wanted to know about him.

 

But other details - the terror of being an orphan, her strange, alien comfort of St. Albino's with the kind but stern old nuns, the mortification, after all of her training with Madam Trinket, of her first night with a man - he could never have known except from her. She broke open the darkest corners of her heart, and his pity softened his touch towards her and made him gentle.

 

“You will never have recourse to that again,” he vowed fervently, a vow she took to her heart and cherished as truth.  

 

After, they dressed to take their tea on the veranda facing a small, tropical garden.  Rue served them discretely, though her cheeks were flushed and Katniss swore she heard the girl giggle when she returned to the interior of the house.  Peeta, who’d spent the time since they’d dressed in pensive silence, finally spoke. “I must offer you my apologies, Katniss, for my behavior. Will you forgive me?”

 

Katniss, who had only just brought the warm liquid to her lips, set it quickly down again. “For what?” she asked in alarm.

 

“I am no better than those men, seeking out your bed and your comfort, mindless of every other consideration. For this I am sorry,” he said, holding her hand between his.

 

“Peeta!  What is this?” she said, withdrawing her hand in panic. "Have you..." she gulped, unable to utter the words. Had he changed his mind?  Would he withdraw his proposal?

 

As if he could read her thoughts written across her face, he rose from his chair and knelt before her.  “No!  You misunderstand!  How could I?" He caressed her face, sweeping away her anxiety with a touch of his fingers. "I came to you in plain day, without concern for the servants of your house, for your neighbors…for anyone who might see you recieve a man accompanied at that hour.”

 

“You think they see you as another _friend_ , staying only for a brief visit,” she interjected, understanding finally dawning on her. She blushed with shame. It had been so easy to receive him, so complete was his claim over her, that she had taken nothing else into consideration.

 

“You are not that any more. You will be my wife. You will be known as a lady, whether the title is freely given or wrested with my bare hands. And the sooner it is known, the sooner you can take your rightful place by my side.” He stood, pacing so that she was free to take in yet again the gallantry of his military dress. “I will remain in the barracks until our vows are sealed and will not touch you until you carry my name. There will be no question of my intentions, neither between us nor in society.”

 

“That is not necessary!” Katniss asserted, wondering how she would function without his touch, now that she had come to depend on it for her every happiness.

 

“It is, m’lady. There is a further impetus. You lamented our lack of acquaintance.  Now, you will have it. I will come to you each day but our comportment henceforth will be unimpeachable.” He captured her hand in his. “We will learn who we are, through civilized society, and when the day comes when you are finally legally and morally bound to me as my wife…” he kissed her fingertips, that small gesture setting her on fire again, “We will have our pleasure for as long as our hearts desire it.  Nothing will interfere with us then.”

 

“How...how long until we are married?” she asked, overwhelmed by his words of devotion.

 

“I would marry tomorrow if I could!” he said.

 

“That is too soon.  We have...no knowledge of each other, no evidence that our affections will endure,” Peeta watched her as she spoke, which further confused her ideas but she grasped this one and held onto it.

 

“Are your feelings not...are you unsure?” he asked.

 

“No!  I am frightened that I lack those doubts that surely prey on others in circumstances such as these. My certainty...I do not trust it. It is unheard of, as if a spell had been cast over me.  I think of you every moment of every day and yet…Perhaps a few months...”

 

Peeta threw himself down in the chair across from her, where parrots chirped behind them in their cages.  The fronds of banana trees swayed gently over them in the breeze, but he had no eyes for the exotic beauty of the veranda where Katniss grew her herbs.  He was fixed on her like the beacon from the watch tower on the battlements as he considering her words.

 

“No,” he said finally.

 

“No?”  Katniss said in surprise.

 

“I will not trifle and risk the caprice of the Assembly and have the laws change again before I can be bound to you. At most, one month.”

 

Katniss sat back, considering the time frame. He was right to be wary - times were turbulent and the Assembly passed laws and broke them almost on a whim. It was legal today to marry a mulatta, tomorrow it may not be. She may be freeborn now, and in two months find her freedom a fleeting legal construct, easily lost in a wave of political posturing.

 

“One month,” she agreed.

 

Peeta considered this, nodding slowly before giving her a bright smile, full of joy and gratitude, as if she had bestowed upon him an inheritance of great wealth.  He kissed her hands, squeezing the fingers between his own.  “One month, then.” he said, acceding to her. “I can be patient for one month.”   

 

Katniss smiled in response, reassured by him. Though not being a woman given to spontaneous affection, she flung her arms around his shoulders in the most unbecoming, unladylike way.  His warm laughter convinced her that he was unoffended by her behavior. When she'd believed he had reconsidered his offer of marriage, the moment had filled her with a terror unlike any she'd ever known, except for the vision she had received with Mother Seeder. She was at pains to understand how she had arrived at the point where his existence had become indispensable to her well-being but decided that she no longer cared to unravel the mystery. He was hers, and she was his, and everything else was simply inconceivable.

 

**XXXXX**

 

Katniss immediately advised Johanna to convey, by every means at her disposal, that her mistress would not longer accept the perfumed calling cards that represented appointments with her select group of _friends_. The word had spread quickly that Madame Katniss Everdeen had retired from her infamous profession. The sudden inaccessibility of her charms and attention propelled her legend into myth, even among those who had not been fortunate enough to possess the appearance or means to be privileged with consorting with her.  When she walked arm and arm with Rue or Johanna through the market, gentlemen of great influence tipped their hats in deference to her, their eyes filled with the memory of nights spent in exaltation of her mulatta body.  Women turned their faces aside in jealousy and disdain - at her beauty, her independence and her audacity to not only live but prosper in spite of them. She was a creature who was not meant to exist and her very being was an affront to the myth of respectability so cherished by the well-to-do of Le Cap.

 

When Peeta strolled with her in the evenings, after his affairs at the barracks afforded him a few precious hours of leisure, Katniss observed that the same men who paid her silent court when she was alone feigned complete ignorance of her acquaintance in the company of her fiance. She understood that it was in deference to the Capitaine and became dismayed that the reputation that had preceded him might have some fact behind it.  He was said to have the highest integrity and inspired loyalty in his men, to the extent that it was whispered that the Commandante Snow himself feared him and his regiment.

 

However, there were also rumors of interrogations, beatings, and the ruthless pursuit of enemies through the mountains surrounding the plantations. Capitaine Mellark was legendary in battle, becoming blood crazed and able to do fend off one hundred men with only his sword, or so Johanna told it. He was unimpressed with gold or prestige so those who held power could not count on his support when delicate matters that gently reinterpreted the laws of the island were necessary to conduct business.  This made him more dangerous than an unscrupulous man, for he could not be bought. His loyalty had to be earned and many simply did not have the character or moral fortitude to do so. He was a person who made women’s eyes fall and men’s backs straighten in respect.

 

Katniss never saw any indication of this nature that made even Johanna cautious in her comportment on the rare occasions when she interacted with Capitaine Mellark.  Peeta was gentle with Katniss, managing her nature with diplomacy, and never exerting that authority over her that seemed to make others cower in his presence.  He came to her with sweet gifts and stood at her door to receive her with utmost decorum as he took her wherever her heart desired.  He was as gallant as the first day he came to her, and as pliant as dough in her hands.  But there was heat behind his gentility that left no question of his desire to possess her.

 

Yet despite this, he came to her, not as her lover but as her suitor and courted her as a high-born woman, with all the attendant expectations.  Johanna found this humorous and merely shook her head when he returned Katniss from the theater late in the evening and left her at her door.

 

“He is a fastidious man,” she said as she helped Rue prepare the dough for the morning brioche.  “He has already lain with you but now would have your virginity flower again on the eve of his wedding,” she chuckled at her friend.

 

As Johanna spoke, Katniss merely stood at the window, watching the Capitaine as he stepped into his hired carriage, her heart stammering wildly when he turned to wave at her, as if he could feel her eyes on him like a physical caress on his back.  She grieved a little death each time he left and realized with the wanting of him that she had wandered back into the sentimental terrain of her mother and father’s loss, a territory rife with grief and terror.

 

“He is a gentleman who would make lady of me,” Katniss answered, more to herself than to Johanna.

 

“Do you feel yourself a lady?”  Rue asked earnestly while Johanna chuckled in the background.  But Katniss was in no mood for laughter.

 

“When I am with him, I am the Queen herself,” she whispered.  At that moment, all movement stopped behind her, and she knew that the two women had heard her. There would no longer be any joking on the matter.

 

**XXXXX**

 

One evening, he took her to the prestigious Comedie du Cap to watch the opera.  It was not the first time she’d attended but this function was particularly exclusive, featuring only the highest ranked military and government officials. She recalled the stares as Peeta escorted her to the performance and to dinner afterwards in the principal dining hall of Le Cap, where these same respectable men dined with wives and retinues in tow.  Katniss had taken care to appear modest, wearing a dress she hoped pleased the Capitaine yet would not scandalize the already mortified wives of officers and other executries who had, without their knowledge, enthusiastically sought out her company.  

 

“ _Ma Perle_ , I hope you were satisfied by the this evening's performance,” he said, ignoring the twitters of talk as he served the sweet island wine, mulled on the very premises.  The hall was typical of the island’s buildings - large windows facing out onto the sea, potted palms that dotted the periphery like Arawak warriors peering down on the attendees.  Ventilators ran continuously, powered by slaves who pressed the mechanisms that rotated the blades, freshening the air inside the dining area, which would otherwise have hung heavily with perfume, food and sweat.  

 

“I was most pleased, thank you. I have always been fond of the Comedie du Cap and this evening’s concert did not disappoint,” Katniss answered, suddenly shy under Peeta’s scrutiny.  He had a way of staring at her that was not merely superficial - it appeared as if he were taking stock of her soul, reading the secrets she labored for so long to keep hidden.  And yet, with only the slightest provocation, she could unfold said soul and lay it bare before him.

 

“When we are married, we will attend as frequently as my lady desires,” he replied gallantly, as attendants set their meals before them.

 

Katniss blushed as she’d never done in her life at Peeta’s words.  She had never desired marriage, and yet, she felt like a dewy-eyed girl who’d never known a man. The strain of society's eyes made her feel less secure in his affections than usual.  “You speak freely of it as a given.  Perhaps you will change your mind when you have endured my company.”

 

Peeta who had been raising the roasted fish to his lips, froze, his fork suspended in mid-air.  “Do you mean to suggest that I am trifling with you?” he asked.

 

“No, Capitaine,” Katniss replied slowly, observing that his smile was fixed in place while his eyes blazed with another sentiment entirely, more heated than the cool pleasantries of earlier. “I never doubt your devotion. I meant only to tease you.”

 

“Or perhaps you expose your fears through jest, m’lady.” He set his fork down and took her hand across the table.  “Eighteen days.”

 

“Monsieur?” she asked politely.

 

“Eighteen days.  Eighteen days since my return from the Western Islands.  Eighteen days plus two fortnights in which I have thought of only you day and night,” he said, squeezing her hand firmly but gently. “Eighteen days since I have had the pleasure of your skin and lips, since I have carried the taste of you in my mouth.”

 

Katniss felt the heat rise all the way to her hairline.  “Monsieur, you forget yourself,” she looked around, but no one seemed overtly interested in them at the moment.

 

“I do not. Do you remember why we are not yet married?  Do you recall the circumstances on my return?”

 

Katniss did remember his return, the last night he had held her, each sensation returning to torment her.  She felt herself become molten, like the sketches of volcanoes she’d seen in her father’s naturalist books, accompanied by descriptions of heat so intense, rocks turned to liquid.  She was sure the memory of that night (and its intense pleasures) was now written on her face, for all to see.

 

“Had the timing of our marriage been entirely mine, I would have married you within days of my return, allowing time only for the banns to be announced,” he said calmly, a subtle heat behind his words that she recognized. “It was you who argued for a delay.”

 

“To test our feelings!  A natural consequence of our circumstances," she exclaimed, though she continued to be mindful of the company around her.  “You knew me as just a woman in a marketplace.”

 

“Katniss, you mustn't…”  

 

“Mustn’t what, m’lord?  Say the truth?  Would we entertain each other with lies?  How could you know if you would find me tiresome and cruel, or insipid and uninteresting?  How do you profess love within moments of meeting a person?”

 

"You would still employ this argument with me?" Peeta chided gently running his finger up the inside of her wrist as he had when she reclined on her stomach the night of his return. After those seemingly endless hours, she had been resting face down on her pillow in a state of complete satiation, and even now she recalled the way his finger dominated every other sensation against her skin.   

 

"It is not a silly argument.  Three months is a perfectly reasonable amount of time to be engaged.  It would allow us time to test our affection and know that they are true,” she responded.  What she most feared, what she could not say, was that they would wake one day and find this magic between them evaporated, and he would be left with only regret.  “And there are obvious practical matters to be resolved," she said.

 

"I can find a house to let by this very time tomorrow and have yours sold in a week.  As for my affections, I am quite convinced that they are not capricious," he argued.  "We must not tempt fate.  My devotion will not diminish. But the fickle laws of this island can change on a whim."

 

"We negotiated one month, which is soon at an end," Katniss said, quietly thrilled that his ardor had not cooled.

 

“Yes, but had it been my pleasure alone, you would have long been bound to me,” Peeta said.  “I would do it even tomorrow.”

 

"Peeta!" she exclaimed, her brow furrowed in mock irritation.

 

He marked his acquiescence by bringing her hand to his lips and leaving a lingering kiss on the small mound where her thumb met her hand.

 

“We have an audience,” Katniss said breathlessly, glancing at the Majordomo and his wife at the next table, the soft touch of his lips befuddling her to the same degree it appeared to be scandalizing the pair.

 

“Indeed,” he demurred, setting her hand carefully on the table as he turned to give a pointed greeting to Monsieur Heavensbee and his family.  But they did not dare do more than nod in acknowledgement of Katniss nor would they make their reproach evident to her future husband, for he was one of the highest ranking military officials on the island where the military might make the difference between civilization and barbarism.

 

After they had dined, Peeta took Katniss’s hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, leading her to the overlook along the wall, a pleasant path that ended at the fort itself.  The waves crashed stridently against the battlements below, cooling the dense air.  The nights were becoming unbearable again as summer descended, bringing it’s cyclical dance of intense, wet heat, followed by torrential rains and the steady rise of humidity again. On nights such as this, when the day has been dry and rain had brought no relief, it was almost impossible to find sleep.

 

Katniss’ mind was not unlike the air surrounding them, thick with thoughts and intentions, all swirling madly about. She stole a glance at Peeta, whose clear blue stare was now directed at the port further north, the lanterns twinkling from the belfry over the inky black sea.  She was rational and cool - qualities that served her well. But the proximity to this man in addition to the abstinence to which his propriety had submitted them both, made it more and more difficult for her to focus.

 

“Capitaine,” she said, interrupting his reverie.  "I do not wish to sell my home right away." At this, Katniss stopped to look up at him.  His hair was a mass of golden locks falling in waves, his eyes dark with concentration. "I wish to let it out.  It is an income, and I am accustomed to earning my own way."

 

Peeta considered her a moment, his face now a mystery as he withheld his reaction.  She wondered at his thoughts, as she often did, and considered the obvious reasons for his insistence that she leave her current residence.  It was not necessary for him to be explicit - she did not relish the thought that she might have unwanted callers while he was away.  It was not a question of integrity, but because neither desired the unpleasantness of a misunderstanding.

 

After a few moments, he smiled and just as suddenly, she relaxed. "Very well.  But I have already identified a location that would suffice for _all_ of us.” His eyes twinkled with humor, and Katniss recalled the vehemence with which she had insisted that Johanna and Rue be retained in her possession as a condition of their marriage.  “It looks out over the sea."

 

Katniss' eyes widened in excitement.  "The sea?  Which road?"

 

"Vie Montmartre. It lies beneath the east battlements overlooking the ports.  You can see across the sea, and on a very clear night, the coastline of the Antilles."  he said this, infecting her with his excitement.

 

"You must show me!!" Katniss declared.  

 

Peeta laughed, his pleasure evident at her sudden enthusiasm. "Now?  It is too late, and I do not allow it."  He pulled her up against him, losing all sense of propriety with his embrace.

 

"You do not _allow_ it?  Now you expose your hand in ordering me about like one of your men!” she teased, so close that she could see the new stubble on his chin. “Shall I salute you before I come to your bed and march ten feet behind you like the women of the eastern lands?"

 

"Not at all.  You have only to bow to me and call me master, except on Sundays, when you will be permitted to use my surname,” he teased even as he released her and moved in the direction of the road he had indicated.

 

"Never a more persuasive proposal has been spoken. Tell me, Capitaine, will you place me on a leash and walk me about the market?"

 

He stopped once again and turned towards her, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "No, _ma perle_ , I will have recourse to the leash only in our private rooms when you are in particular need of correction." Despite the humor, there was a hint that the idea was not altogether distasteful to him.

 

Katniss read his mood perfectly and felt his heat. "You are a scoundrel," she whispered huskily.

 

"And you are a coquette. Let us to this house before it becomes too late," he said as he offered his arm again.  

 

Lost in the expectation of a new home, _their_ new home, the one in which they would begin their matrimonial lives, they had barely taken two steps before a large gentleman cut into their path and stood before them.  Katniss was taken aback by the abruptness of the man, only just missing a collision. However, she felt Peeta become rigid as the man before her removed the hood of his long cape.  Even in the glowing street lamps, the glinting hair and broad shoulders were unmistakeable to Katniss.

 

“Monsieur Alexander!” Katniss exclaimed, wondering at his sudden appearance.

 

The gentleman bowed at the waist before Katniss.  “Madame Everdeen,” he said, almost purring, “It is, as always, a pleasure.”

 

The double entendre was not lost on Katniss nor, as evidenced by his darkening expression, on Peeta either.  Cato Alexander, a known buccaneer, made no move to immediately acknowledge her companion.

 

“M’lady, I have heard from public banns that you are affianced.”

 

“It is true. I am certain I can count on your good wishes,”  she answered with thinly veiled sarcasm.

 

“Indeed.”  He finally turned to Peeta, whose hand rested lightly on his pistol, and, without the requisite introductions towards one of the Capitaine’s social position, pronounced, “I require reparations.”

 

“Reparations? You, Cato Alexander, suspected smuggler and pirate?”  Peeta asked, his face unreadable.  “Do elaborate the circumstances under which a man at the boundary of the law such as yourself would require reparations of any kind.”

 

The slur smarted Cat’s ego. “I am a businessman and as much a gentleman as any other, perhaps of greater means than even you, Capitaine. I am wounded that the lady has accepted a petition of marriage when mine was submitted prior to yours and, to my understanding, still under consideration.”

 

“I have refused your petition numerous times, Monsieur. You have no claim over me,” Katniss corrected, taking care to deliver her pronouncement with a steady, haughty voice, as much for the benefit of Cato himself, as for the gathering crowd of onlookers.

 

“The lady has confirmed that there is no interest or ties binding her to you. If you will excuse us,” Peeta  said, struggling to maintain his calm demeanor as he stepped around the buccaneer with Katniss in tow.

 

“I demand reparations by sword!” the gentleman boomed, the crowd muttering at the spectacle he appeared more than willing to provide.

 

“You have no grounds,” Peeta responded, and Katniss noticed the distinct change of his voice.  He spoke to Cato as she had never heard him speak, in a voice that demanded obedience.  “And you are a man of questionable honor.  You cannot demand a duel of any kind.  Just as you, duels lie outside the law.”

 

“Take care that I do not demand a duel à l'outrance, for you compound the wound to my honor  with an insult to my name!  My Second will call on you tomorrow at the barracks, monsieur,” Cato pronounced, bowing with exaggerated obsequiousness.  “Good evening, Capitaine; m’lady.”

 

Peeta bent stiffly at the waist out of habit as the towering ogre walked away.  The crowds that surrounded them slowly dispersed with the gentleman’s departure. Katniss looked up at Peeta’s face, fearing that he would simply give up his claim on her once and for all.  His expression did not immediately console her, particularly when he pulled her behind a large tree away from curious ears, his eyes boring almost desperately into hers.

 

“Katniss…” he said gently, but there was panic beneath his calm exterior. She did not want to hear the words form on his lips, could not bear to wound him further. She fixed him with as stern a stare as she could muster, though she quaked with fear.

 

“I’ve never, not for even a passing moment, entertained the possibility of a permanent union with that man.  I would not have accepted your offer otherwise.  I am many things, Peeta, but false I am not.”

 

“He is very wealthy.  It would not have been disadvantageous for you.  I would understand if you wished to reconsider our attachment,” he said.

 

Katniss wanted to throttle him and throw her arms around him simultaneously, but, mindful of propriety, she restrained herself. “For good or evil, my mother and father married for love.  I never wanted to marry because I did not believe that good fortune would ever befall me.”  She stepped close to him so no one could overhear.  “I can do many things for convenience, but I can only conceive of marriage under the conditions of a deep and abiding affection.”

 

He closed his eyes, exhaling a sigh of relief before opening them again.  He took her hand and left a lingering kiss upon it, as if he were praying to her.  Katniss understood that his severe posture had obscured his own fear, perhaps that Cato’s accusation was true. Brushing his knuckles against her cheek, he gave her a sudden grin that confused her, for she was sure he would still be in a state of dismal mortification.

 

“How are you not horrified by this turn of events and by the insult of that base man?” she exclaimed, annoyed that she had no means yet of predicting his moods.

 

“ _Mon coeur,_ ” Peeta said with such tenderness, she was sure she had dreamed the distasteful encounter with Cato.  “One day, we will toast to that buffoon and thank him for his idiocy.” When Katniss still stared at him as if struck dumb, without comprehension, he kissed her hand and gently directed her toward the path they were on before they had been so crudely interrupted. “I will make everything clear on the way to our new home.”

 

Katniss let him guide her towards Via Montmartre, lost in a fog of confusion.  Instead of even a hint of gratitude or levity, all she could imagine was Peeta wounded, or worse, at Cato’s hand. She knew she would not survive such a turn of events. It was impossible for her to see how any of this could be propitious and hoped against hope that Peeta’s optimism had some basis in reality.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding duels: As Peeta said, duels were actually illegal but that did not stop gentlemen and some ladies from participating in them. The duel Cat asked for was one by sword. They will fight until someone draws blood. However, Cato threatened a duel à l'outrance when Peeta reminded him that he was not a perfectly respectable gentleman. This would have meant a duel to the death. Is it no wonder Katniss was distressed?
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>  
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> Many thanks to solasviolettafor betaing and akai-echo for prereading. I would also like to thank loving-mellark for the exquisite new banner! It is unbelievable!
> 
> These chapters take a bit of research but I am thoroughly enjoying learning about this time period and the Caribbean religions that sprung up in response to the oppression of the native and African peoples. If you see any discrepancies or simply want to chat about anything, feel free to hit me up.
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>  
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> Next chapter, Finnick will be back on the scene. I am planning an outtake for Finnick and Annie, which I am so excited about! Their story could easily spawn a fic of its own!
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> Thank you for reading!


	5. The Lady of the Sea

**Chapter 5 - The Lady of the Sea**

 

**_J’ai aimé jusqu’à atteindre la folie. Ce que certains appellent la folie, mais ce qui pour moi, est la seule façon d’aimer._ **

 

**_I have loved to the point of madness; That which is called madness, That which to me, Is the only sensible way to love._ **

 

**_by Françoise Sagan_ **

 

**XXXXX**

 

_**August, 1790** _

 

**Peeta**

 

_Madame Mellark._

 

Peeta savored those two words like the sweet honeyed rum that abounded on the island, a voluptuous concoction that coated the throat and left the taste of itself behind long after it had been consumed.  

 

Peeta decided from the first that he would indulge no shame or embarrassment regarding his engagement to Katniss.  It was legal at the moment, so he had made the public announcements and arranged to marry her in the church as was customary and befitting a man of his class.  He was good friends with Monsignor Abernathy, who would administer all the sacraments and confessions.  What he would not do was scurry off into a dark corner to hide.  He had promised Katniss respectability and would deliver on his promise, whether by bravado or force.  He was a respectable man and expected that consideration in return.  

 

As for Katniss, she possessed a temperament which would dignify any gentleman, quite unlike the frivolous vacuity of many young women her age.  She was a lady to her bones, though life had misdirected her along another path.  Her intelligence was evident in the way she observed the world, taking in every impression while her face revealed nothing, a challenge to any man who would wish to uncover what secrets lie beneath.  It was no wonder she was so desired - she was the perfect combination of refinement and coquetry that any man of influence or taste would find compelling.

 

The incident with Cato Alexander, while distressing, brought an opportunity to augment Katniss’s prestige, though Peeta was at pains to make this clear to her.

 

“I cannot understand the insouciance with which you have received Monsieur Alexander’s challenge,” Katniss said after that distasteful event as they stood before their new home on Via Montemartre.

 

“A duel for a lady will satisfy the affront upon the duelers but will also settle any questions with regards to the lady. I will put to rest, with one confrontation, any public protests that might be made against our marriage,” Peeta said as they circled the small home but elegant home. Though larger than the residence she now occupied with Johanna and Rue, it would only require an extra stable hand and perhaps a cook or a maid in addition to her ladies to maintain. It was nothing compared to the homes some of the plantation owners kept in Le Cap but it was quaint and inviting.  Peeta was satisfied when he saw the pleasure on her face.  The house was relatively secluded with respect to the understated elegance of the other homes on the road, all of which shared a spectacular overlook that faced the sea.  These features gave the home its value and Peeta was pleased that it had the desired effect on Katniss.

 

“It is beautiful,” she said, momentarily distracted from the previous conversation before she returned to the topic at hand. “You speak truly, but this does nothing to temper my fear,” she turned from the observation of the home to her Capitaine.  She took his hand and held it to her chest, warm and supple beneath the callouses of his fingers. “You endanger yourself and it...gives me great unease to imagine some injury befalling you on my account.”

 

Peeta squeezed her small hand in his, wishing he could carry her upstairs to any space that permitted and revel in her body. It had been too long, and his skin ached for her touch.  He swallowed hard, embarrassed that his desire would be so evident at such an inopportune moment. “You are afraid because you underestimate my skill with a sword. If you knew my reputation, you would fear for Monsieur Alexander and not expend your energy worrying for me.”

 

Katniss came very close to him, her nose practically touching his, her sweet breath fanning his chin and cheeks.  “I have no doubt of your prowess, sir.  However, what the mind accepts, the heart rejects. My fear is not borne from a consideration of your formidable abilities, but from an instinctive fear that _mon coeur_ might be harmed at the hands of that brute, no matter how incompetent a duelist he may be.” She left small kisses along the corners of his mouth until Peeta groaned in desperation.  

 

“You would tempt my abstinence,” he whispered, attempting to claim her wayward lips but failing as she pressed her head into the crook of his neck to escape his kisses.

 

“A torture entirely of your choosing, my lord,” she answered, her lips vibrating against the corded muscles of his neck.  

 

Peeta chuckled. “It would appear I must have fortitude for the both of us, then,” he answered, winding his arms around her, pressing her against him in full contravention of his own words.

 

**XXXXX**

 

True to his word, Cato Alexander’s second, Marvel Louvois, the middle son of a prominent plantation owner, appeared at the barracks to arrange the circumstances of the duel. The young gentleman arrived with a presumptuous air that in Cato, managed to be intimidating, but as for Marvel, only made him appear ridiculous. Cato chose a small hill outside of Lauriers.  The city overlooked the Le Cap from the south behind which raced the wild jungle in the direction of Minot like a green sea that emptied into Port au Prince, over 251 kilometers away.  Peeta nodded to the gentleman, accepting the appointment for the following afternoon. He had no doubt Cato would gather a formidable group of observers, for men like him liked to be seen and spoken of, regardless of the virtue of their acts.

 

Finnick arrived just as the young man was being escorted out of Peeta’s office.  He brought a weekly report of medical visits, injuries and treatments and set the documents on Peeta’s desk.

 

“I observed the announcements in the newspapers,” Finnick said, taking the large chair across from Peeta’s writing desk in the officer's quarters, observing the delicate flare with which Peeta’s quill swept the parchment, the flawless script, as if one of the masters bore his hand and wrote for him.  “You spared no expense with the banners, which has stimulated a great deal of discussion.”

 

“What is being said on the matter?” Peeta asked with forced indifference, blotting the paper expertly, leaving only a tiny ink stain on his finger tips.  

 

“Only that it is shocking comportment on your part, given the bride’s race and social circumstances,” Finnick smiled, leaning toward his friend.  “It brings me no small pleasure to describe the Majordomo becoming purple from indignation when his wife brought him news of the banners on the day of my visit.  As you know, he suffers from an acute digestive disorder.”

 

Peeta wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I have had the misfortune of visiting his office at the Palais de Justice and know only too well that he is plagued with that most unpleasant affliction.”

 

“Yes, and the condition only became magnified upon news of your wedding. With all respect, Capitaine, he released a fart that would have woken the sleeping volcanoes of the Ring of Fire.”

 

Peeta roared with laughter until tears streamed from his eyes. It was no wonder Finnick would be witness to such a spectacle. His friend was of such renown that his own marriage to a common quadroon was largely overlooked when his expert services were required but did not shield him from social disdain nonetheless. Despite the inconvenience of society’s censure, Finnick's marriage gave Peeta much to hope for in consideration of his own engagement.

 

“Annie is eager to make Mademoiselle’s formal acquaintance this evening.  As you know, she is known to Mademoiselle Mason and therefore familiar with your lady.”

 

Peeta glanced up from his work. “You are full of news today, Dr. Odair! My recent experience leads me to believe that Mademoiselle Mason does not approve the nuptials.”

 

Finnick nodded.  “It would not be contrary to her character to be unpleasant before the potential upheaval of her life. Annie told me that the lady is particularly independent, uncharacteristically so given that she is legally a slave.  Submitting to a new master, no matter how enlightened or malleable you may be, sir…” Peeta chuckled at Finnick’s obsequiousness, knowing that, on some matters, he could be far from malleable, “...might prove to be beyond her humour.”

 

“Well, she will have some relief from me in a few short weeks,” Peeta said, completing a second missive with significantly more gravitas.

 

“I doubt she will be invited to your honeymoon!” Finnick quipped, but he knew his friend too well and concern was writ across his face.

 

“Sadly, the honeymoon will be short,” Peeta said with a sigh, handing the document he was completing to Finnick.

 

Finnick read Peeta’s script, brow increasingly furrowed as he arrived to the Capitaine’s signature.  “That is quite distressing, indeed.”

 

“Yes. The plantations of the west are under duress. This is the third attack in so many weeks.”

 

“The very ones belonging to the landowners we escorted?  Our rendezvous with Makkube was for naught,” Finnick lamented as he returned the letter to Peeta.

 

“The situation is further complicated by our current lack of military resources. France will not release the soldiers required to subdue the northwest island, given its own political turbulence.  Further, the Commandante does not wish to leave Le Cap without its troops.”

 

“Le Cap?  Is our city in immediate danger?” Finnick said with sincere worry.  Peeta knew his thoughts flew to his wife and children, as his every stratagem of survival was concentrated on their well-being.  

 

Leaning forward, Peeta folded his hands before himself. “It is well known that Makkube seeks the complete liberation of the island from France. His agents and priests work tirelessly to incite the population on the plantations to unrest.  Because France has emancipated her slaves and rendered the trade illegal, the rebels on the island now have more open supporters in the Assembly than ever before.  Our island finds itself in an unfortunate moral and political situation,” Peeta heated the wax that he would use to seal the letter. “Commandante Snow will be returning to Le Cap from Port au Prince before the end of the month with more news.”

 

Finnick nodded, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. “I have discussed the matter at length with Annie, and made her swear a vow, in the event of instability and rebellion, that she would remove herself and the children to the island of Cuba.  I have acquaintances in Havana amongst the order to which Monsignor Abernathy belongs who would gladly receive them.”

 

Peeta shook his head, chuckling at his friend's caution.  "It is likely the destiny of all colonies to one day attain their independence. However, is it not premature to take such drastic measures?"

 

Finnick gave Peeta a pointed look. “When a man has a family, it is always prudent to be prepared when fate hints at misfortune, particularly in a case such as this, which promises the potential for great violence and death.  The rage amongst the enslaved on this island is so great, I fear it could condemn us all to the island beneath the sea.”

 

 _The Island Beneath the Sea_.  The land of the dead. The place where souls went to rest after they had exhausted themselves on their earthly journey.  Peeta wanted to tease Finnick for his superstitions.  Perhaps he was spending too much time with Mother Seeder and taking on the ways of the island.   However, he understood the message his friend was trying to convey.  With that understanding came, for the first time, a terror so acute, it brought bile to his mouth.  Not for his own person - he had never feared for his own life.  It was the weakness that came with finally knowing love and what it meant to fear for the life of a person more dear than himself.  When he imagined harm befalling Katniss, his mind became suffused in such horror, it stole all of his peace and complacency away.

 

“I must task you with one final request, my friend,” Peeta said, shaking off the weight of those heavy sentiments.  “I have been challenged to a duel.”

 

“A duel?  You?” Finnick stared at him in surprise.  “They are illegal!  You, a man of the law?”

 

“Cato Alexander.  It is his contention that he has an older claim of marriage on Mademoiselle Everdeen than mine and asserts his rights to reparation. I have accepted the duel on the grounds that his claim is without merit.”

 

Finnick shook his head.  “That is codswallop!  Monsieur Alexander is an unrepentant blackguard!”

 

“Yes, an unsavory character at best.  I cannot gather his intention, but I will use the opportunity to end his challenge and those of any others before they arise. I fear there will be many before the month is out if I do not give him a sound thrashing on the field tomorrow.”

 

“Indeed, I have no doubts for your success. I’m at your service, Capitaine. What may I do to repay the entertainment that your amorous exploits propitiously provide me?” he teased.

 

“I am happy to be an object of amusement,” Peeta answered wryly. “I will require a second and would prefer not to involve any of the men in my regiment.  Can I persuade you to take up my side on the field?”

 

Finnick pursed his lips together, his eyes twinkling. “It has been sometime since I have given myself over to the reckless delights of youth.  I will happily stand at your side!” He shook Peeta’s hand, sealing his gentlemanly commitment to his friend.  “I have been told my sword play is quite formidable, even by your standards.”

 

“There will certainly be no need. I do not fear Cato Alexander.  I am more terrified of returning you to Annie in any state less than the one in which I found you.  She is quite the terrifying mouse, your wife,” Peeta chided gently.

 

“You learn quickly, my friend. It appears that holy matrimony will agree with you more than I anticipated.”

 

**XXXXX**

 

It was late afternoon before he left the barracks and set out for Via Montmartre, along the sea. It was in an entirely different neighborhood from the colorful mulatto quarter in the Seam where Katniss had, up until now resided.  It also represented an alteration of circumstances for Peeta, who would no longer sleep in the barracks after their wedding.  They would dine with Finnick and Annie this evening, which would provide a welcome respite from particulars of relocating Katniss and her ladies to their new home.

 

His conversation with Finnick still weighed on him. He hoped to dispel the strange mood before he met Katniss at their new home, the thought of which sent a shiver of excitement through him.  His thoughts flew to Katniss, the way he could gaze deeply into her large, grey eyes and lose himself in a sea of pure crystalline. He pondered her full lips, perfectly shaped and just shy of being too large. He sought to distract himself harmlessly but he was met with the familiar ache of longing that moved through his body each time he thought of even the most innocuous detail of her body, taunting his self-imposed celibacy.  He did not want to treat his wife as a concubine and had found it agreeable to his conscience to restrain himself with Katniss until their wedding night. However, the mere thought of her made his body want to rebel and sink into a long, triumphant night between her thighs, so much so that when he finally arrived at their new home, he was forced to take two additional turns along the street before coming to a stop before the door of the home, having finally regained his composure.

 

Johanna greeted him at the door, her wariness that of a cornered animal.

 

“Monsieur Mellark,” she said, bristling with a repressed energy that would surely have expended itself in some pursuit that would not be to his benefit.  However, she demonstrated perfect courtesy as she bowed and showed him to their newly furnished veranda, tastefully accented with the adornments from Katniss’s previous habitation, all in the the island fashion - small birds in cages now covered for the evening, the giant-leaved trees transplanted from the nearby jungle and small potted plants abounding with every herb imaginable.  Katniss was unusually passionate about plants of every kind, a surprising passion she inherited from her parents, who had kept an arboretum on their once vast estate.  Vines that once grew wild were now trimmed back to give the lavish appearance of a green cloak cast over the low stone wall, beyond which could be seen the sea, rolling into the bay with now gentle waves. Books belonging to both him and Katniss lined the library in the interior sitting room, whose opened doors allowed the sea air to spill inside.  Peeta closed his eyes and breathed in the magic of the place, knowing that very soon, he would inhabit it, with that exquisite grey-eyed creature who had so bewitched him at his side.

 

When he opened them, he noticed Johanna observing him as she sent the young girl, Rue, to prepare tea.

 

“You do not approve,” he stated bluntly, having understood from instinct that Johanna was not one to trifle with idle conversation.

 

Her eyes shifted quickly before answering, “I seek only my mistress’ happiness. We have...endured...much together,” she said. She did not drop her eyes before him, nor did she incline her head, as slaves were expected to do. She was as arrogant as a lady of the court and unaccustomed to bending her will to anyone’s.  

 

“I will be your master soon,” he said, testing her, preferring to earn her allegiance but willing to assert his legal position if necessary.

 

“Yes, sir,” she said, but it was clear she was chomping like a stallion at the bit.  Despite her insolence, Peeta could not help but admire the woman’s spirit.

 

“I do hope that you will find a similar complicity in our rapport as with that of your mistress. I am neither authoritarian nor demanding. I prefer to leave the running of the home to the lady of the house and will defer to her comportment towards you in all things.”

 

Johanna nodded, still stewing, as if she would begin to snort and paw at the ground, “That is comforting, sir.”

 

At that moment, Rue returned, carrying a tea set and placing it on the small table before him, curtseying politely before indicating a cup.

 

“Would the Capitaine take tea?” she inquired, her eyes downcast so he only saw the part of her curly black hair, which had been oiled recently. She smelled of coconut and he could not help but admire the smoothness of her dark skin, the delicate, surprisingly uncalloused hands that lacked the powdery ashiness or cracked, grey lines that many a slave on the plantations or even in the homes of the officials he visited possessed.  He observed Johanna, of lighter skin and fine hair - she too had the aspect of one who was neither malnourished nor mistreated, but existed as close to the equal of her mistress as any free-born could.

 

“May I be dismissed, sir?” Johanna asked.

 

Peeta bowed his head to her, indicating that she was free to go. She slipped out like a shadow, clearly eager to be out of his company.

 

Peeta shook his head, chuckling to himself. Trained by the environment in which he existed, he only took notice of servants and slaves as they directly pertained to his work. However, after he gave his acquiescence to the young lady to serve his tea, Peeta could not help but observe that both women were well-maintained by their mistress, showing signs that she not only cared for them, ensuring their basic survival, but their every need was met with generosity.  Rue’s dress was not a tattered inheritance from her mistress but carefully sewn to suit her tiny frame. When she passed the cup and saucer to him, he caught the hint of rosewater mingled with coconut oil and nodded approvingly into his cup.  His lady was a kind and magnanimous mistress, which only served to increase all the more his admiration of her.

 

After Rue withdrew to the interior of the home, he had only just finished his tea when the lady in question appeared.  Katniss was a vision in a simple dress of soft green hues, ruffled at the bodice to modestly hide the swell of her high, proud breasts. The lines of silk were woven elegantly into her dress, accentuating her small waist before the material fell in a curtain of dappled light at her feet. He recalled what hid beneath - hips sculpted to perfection, the dimples at the small of her back, long, powerful legs whose muscles he’d felt when she wrapped them tightly around his hips.  Her hair was piled in high curls on her head, a few cascading down her elegant neck, the skin of which beckoned for his lips and teeth. His mind tormented him with these images, and he struggled with the ungentlemanly impulse to peel away her dress.  

 

Katniss’s normally impassive face gave way to an arched eyebrow and small, wry smile as she waited for him to complete his assessment of her appearance, her grey eyes reading his every thought with satisfaction. He had brought this desperate condition onto himself, momentarily cursing his idiotic scrupulousness when he considered what fruits lay in wait for him. But he was a officer, accustomed to deprivations, and he called that iron will to his service, banishing the memory of her supple skin from the forefront of his mind.

 

“You are a vision,” he said, taking her hand and leaving a small kiss on her knuckles.

 

“And you are as gallant as ever, Capitaine,” she murmured, a telling flush of pink spreading across her cheeks and neck. The color moved from her cheeks to his and soon, he was on fire.  This only served to make her smile more impishly at him as he wore his desire like a banner across his features.

 

Clearing his throat, he placed a potted flower in her hand. It was a white orchid, typical in appearance and aroma of the island. However the interior of it’s leaves were a deep purple, a color as vibrant as the land that housed it and gave it life.  Katniss’ eyes widened when she examined it carefully.

 

“It is a rare specimen of its kind! Thank you!” She hurried to set it amongst her cherished collection of plants, admiring it as the tall, stalked flower loomed like a goddess over the other plants.  “Where did you find it?”

 

He approached from behind, standing so close, if he breathed deeply enough, his chest would just brush her back. “A medicine woman suggested it to me when I asked for a flower for my beloved,” he murmured, his warm breath sending a satisfying shiver over his lady’s skin. “She suggested this as a fair offering for a woman who wishes to call on the Lady of the Sea,” he turned her around, his fingers resting lightly on her skin yet scalding as if he had plunged them into a tea pot of boiling water.  “I thought she spoke nonsense but seeing you now, in your dress, staring out over the blue sea, I fancy that you are like a mermaid, swelling out of the waters,” he whispered, his eyes hooded as he lost himself in the vision of Katniss as the goddess of the sea herself.  After so many years, he had a passing knowledge of the Loas and the flower had seemed remarkably appropriate.

 

“They say these ladies see the future, in ways that we cannot comprehend, for they are favored by the deities,” Katniss said, appearing mesmerized as she spoke. The air around them soon became pregnant with the smell of the heavy white and purple flower, as if a spell were being woven slowly around them.

 

“Do you believe what they say?  About the Loas?” he asked.

 

He watched an expression of pain, as if she were recalling an unpleasant memory, flit across her face. When the recollection loosened its hold on her, she responded, “I believe there is much mystery in the world, and we cannot comprehend it all.  The Loas are strong. I have had recent evidence of this, evidence my rational mind is at pains to deny.” The cloud lingered over her face, as she continued. “You must tread cautiously when you trifle with their arts. You have invited La Sirena with your flower, and now she will not have peace until we perform our marriage rights, for she is the goddess of fidelity, and of secrets between lovers,” she smiled shyly now, as if embarrassed by her words. “Or so I have been told.”

 

“I did not need a flower for this to be true. I know it already, for I, too, am impatient for our wedding,” he quipped but the moment had left a telling mark, like a prophecy, on his skin and his memory.

 

“Indeed, m’lord, it is not truth that the Gods create, but it is truth they reveal,” she mused as she smoothed her hands over her dress.

 

“I am Catholic. These...beliefs...they do not impress me as they do you.”

 

Katniss smiled.  “They will not until one day, the Loas seize you and with their rapture, wipe away every last doubt of their existence until no denial will restore your disbelief.”

 

Her words hung ponderously in the silence and perfume of the air until the tolling bell of the far off abbey rang, reminding them that time would not wait for them.  Taking Katniss’s face in both his hands, he kissed her - a thorough kiss that drowned out everything but the sound of the crashing surf below.

 

“It is time, m’lady,” he said, taking her hand and placing it on the crook of his arm.  “Our friends await us.”

 

**XXXXX**

 

**Katniss**

 

Katniss was often nervous around unfamiliar people. She looked forward to making Dr. Odair’s acquaintance, a friendship Peeta prized above all others.  But she was also nervous. Johanna had a long-standing association with his wife, Annie, who was gifted in the art of embroidery and often passed her handiwork discretely to Johanna, who sold it in the market in exchange for a small commission.  It was unbecoming for a lady to actively earn her own income independent of a gentleman, but Annie had been a seamstress before she’d married the doctor. Now, despite having a home, a respectable income and three children to care for, she continued to create pieces and resorted to subterfuge to acquire and save for, what she termed, “eventualities.”   She was not the only respectable wife to engage in this type of commerce, and Johanna never passed up an opportunity for profit so the association had been beneficial to both ladies.

 

Katniss feared she would be met with the same distant civility that had greeted her when Peeta took her amongst the well-to-do of Le Cap.  The ladies were cordial enough but never pursued conversation beyond that required by good manners.  Madame Heavensbee, for example, obsequiously curtseyed to both Katniss and Peeta at the Comedie du Cap but never offered questions that would encourage the natural discourse between two ladies. She had done her duty efficiently, marvelously so, before she melted into the crowds of other ladies.  The same could be said of Madame Glimmer LeFavre, the wife of the Deputy Mayor, and Madame Clove Galouise, the wife of the Province’s Treasurer.  If Katniss was ever accepted by that society, it would only be superficially so. Her profession had ensured that.

 

The carriage carried them to the East.  Katniss held Peeta’s hand, unconscious of the force of her grip until Peeta covered it with his other hand and squeezed hers gently.  “You have nothing to fear. Finnick and Annie are outstanding individuals.  They have already accepted you.”

 

“Because of you,” she said quietly. “They have not yet made my acquaintance.”

 

Peeta turned towards her as best as the space would allow. “But they will, and they will be enchanted with you as I am.  I promise.”

 

Katniss lay her head on his uniformed shoulder until they arrived at an estate home in an upscale quarter of the Le Cap.  Finnick had received the house as an inheritance, though he received little more in the way of money or gold, his father having to provide for six of Finnick’s siblings.  Still, it was a sturdy, two storied home, elegant in dimensions, with an ornate, wrought-iron gate and a sprawling front garden that created a natural barrier between the home and the street.  The large windows were shielded by the heavy leaves of palmettos, banana trees, papaya plants and bamboo. The deep ochre tiles on the roof were intact and the salmon-colored stones of the walk were impeccably well-maintained. The house struck the precise balance between prosperity and humility.

 

“It is beautiful, is it not?” Peeta asked.

 

She turned to see his uncertain expression and kissed him on the cheek. “It is but I prefer our home best, if that is your concern.”

 

He smirked but the pleasure was evident on his face as he turned to knock at the door.  A servant opened, leading them to the sitting room, decorated in a more modern style, austere even, but for the plants and paintings that adorned the walls.

 

“Will my lord and lady take tea while you wait?”  asked the servant when they were seated.

 

“Yes, please,” Peeta answered.  The servant bowed at the waist before exiting the room.  When he had gone, Peeta stood and tugged Katniss to his side as he rounded the room, admiring the paintings until he paused at a landscape drawing of the sunrise over the Mer du Blu, the water the same opulent color of his eyes.

 

“This was one of my gifts to Finnick,” he said proudly.

 

“You!” Katniss exclaimed in wonder at the technical excellence of the painting and the pleasing aspect that it gave to the wall where it was hung. She could, with some suspension of imagination, fall head-first through the painting and land on the beaches, perhaps under a clump of chen-chen or the vines of sea grapes that were stretched along the edge of the frame.

 

“It is. I have a...passion for drawing and painting. I once considered the profession as a youth but my parents discouraged me.”

 

“You are a warrior with an artist’s soul,” Katniss said, “I cannot fathom it but it brings me sincere happiness to discover this aspect of you.  You grow nearly perfect in my eyes, sir, to contain in one person two such opposing impulses,” she teased.

 

At this, the servant returned with their tea, which they sipped as they circled the room, contemplating the portraits and paintings.   Peeta indicated a smaller painting, a still life of flowers in a vase that was less perfect in detail than his painting. “Each person contains within themselves extremes of the human condition,” he said, resuming their earlier discourse.  “Therefore, it is possible for a man of my profession to also indulge in the gentler, more artistic side of his nature. Beauty requires no prerequisite for its appreciation.”

 

“Indeed, appreciate...but to create it? That is a talent, a gift few possess,” she set her now empty cup on the desk before snaking her arm around his waist, revelling in the feel of his hard muscles beneath, and leaned into him. “You continue to impress me, m’lord.  You must be careful,” she teased as he gazed at her.  She would never tire of his finely sculpted face, the prominent nose whose profile she often contemplated when he was not aware.  He grew more, not less in her estimation with the passage of time.

 

“Why is that, _ma perle_?” he inquired, setting his own cup down, taking evident pleasure in the lightness of her mood.

 

“Because I may become infatuated with you. Then what will you do?” she asked, tilting her head back suggestively, and he did not resist, brushing his lips against her before increasing the pressure.  He parted his lips and her sly tongue slipped between them, savoring the taste of him.  The memory of that soft mouth tormented her nights, making sleep impossible. She felt her skin awaken, her body longing for him to soothe away the ache of her need for him. She was wet already, with the mere movement of his tongue in her mouth, and she was thankful for the layers of petticoats under her silken skirts, which would keep her from exposing her desire to the world.

 

Peeta pulled her flush against him, eliciting a whimper from deep in her throat, to which he responded with a groan of his own. The world fell away, leaving them in a void in which only their mouths, their lips, their pliant bodies existed, each waiting for the other. His hands roamed her waist and hips, as if they were seeking a way to breach the fragile fortress of her dress.  Katniss pulled away, aware that their hosts should not discover them _in flagrante delicto,_ but Peeta caught her again and deepened his kiss, casting what remained of the world out into the night.

 

From behind them, they heard the clearing of a throat. “Shall I return in ten minutes time?  I do not wish to interrupt you, my friend,”  came a wry voice, full of humor, accompanied by a small chuckle like the twittering of a bird.

 

Katniss pulled back, tapping her now swollen lips, her face aflame with embarrassment.  Peeta’s eyes were still closed, his lips pressed together now as if to keep anymore wayward kisses from escaping. He dropped his golden head, shaking it before looking up again at his hosts.  

 

“Finnick!  You left us too long in waiting,” he sallied, as he shook his friend’s hand. Katniss took the opportunity to compose herself before turning to the couple who stood at the door, a smile on both their lips. The gentleman was tall and strikingly handsome, with copper locks that hung around his head, shining as if on fire. His eyes were the color of the sea and his mouth was full and inviting, set with strong, straight teeth that lit his face with good humor.  

 

“Well, Capitaine, you certainly do not lack for ways to...fill...your idle time.  I had no worries for you at all.”

 

Peeta laughed as he took the hand of the woman next to him, a petite lady with soft curves and delicate complexion. She had a lovely, womanly face with wide, brown eyes and charming dimples that deepened around her smile. She was beautiful in that sweet, inviting way that gentle souls had of being beautiful.  

 

“Madame,” he said, leaving a kiss on her knuckles.

 

“Peeta!” Her voice rang like bells before she turned her attention to Katniss.  Peeta had spoken of acceptance. What he did not tell was of the pure benevolence in that young woman’s demeanor. She did not curtsey towards Katniss, she stepped forward and grasp her by the shoulder, kissing each cheek before pulling back, those bottomless, dark eyes twinkling with good humor and happiness.

 

“Welcome, Katniss.  My husband and I are so very happy to make your acquaintance,” she said, peering into her eyes with open invitation.  Katniss, who had been shocked to near idiocy, tipped her head towards Annie with a sincere, if somewhat surprised, smile of her own.

 

“Thank you.  It is my privilege to meet you.” she said with a shaky voice.  Annie smiled again, hooking her arm through Katniss’s before facing the gentlemen.  Katniss was light-headed from the welcome - she had never been so warmly treated by someone of Madame Odair’s station, and it brought the prickle of tears to her eyes.  It was more than she could have hoped for from any one of Peeta’s acquaintances making her weak with gratitude. Peeta nodded, smiling widely in encouragement before turning back to his friend.

 

“Are we to dine on tea and biscuits?” he teased, clapping his hand on the doctor’s shoulder

 

“Yes, and a bit of dried bread and water for dessert.  We are too familiar with your fare at the barracks, my friend.”

 

“It is not much more than that, I’m afraid.” They wandered ahead, leaving Annie and Katniss to follow behind.

 

Katniss cleared her throat, suddenly very unsure and hoping to impress this young woman more than anything. “Your house is wonderful.  Your collection of paintings is most diverse.”

 

Annie chuckled as they made their way down a tastefully adorned hallway, lacking completely in that baroque, high French style that created clutter out of order.  The lines of the house were elegant, calling to mind a more Italian influence.  Katniss said so much, which elicited a laugh from Annie.

 

“My husband and I share similar tastes. I have no understanding of such things as what is typical of French or Romans or such but I love beautiful things and do not tolerate clutter. I have three children so our belief is “less is more” until they have grown and no longer seek to destroy their environs.”

 

Katniss laughed. “This is a perfectly sensible position. Do you keep a governess?”

 

“Yes, for the education of the eldest. My time only stretches so far. But she helps with the smallest. Maggie is still nursing and is quite attached to me.”

 

Katniss nodded. Annie was clearly a doting mother as she described the two boys, Tristan and Luke and the young girl, Margaret.

 

“Fear not!  They are safely put away in their nursery for the evening, where sleep tempers their more destructive tendencies,” Annie laughed as she guided Katniss to the dining room, where she set sat to her right.  Peeta was situated across from Katniss, who indulged a moment of admiration at his excitement. He was overly delighted by Annie’s reception of her, and it brightened his entire demeanor, making him, if possible, more handsome than he already was to her eyes.

 

“I would be happy to make their acquaintance another time, then.” Katniss said as Annie took the seat closest to her, across from Finnick.

 

“Peeta is well-known to them. We had to keep your visit under the strictest confidence, or they would not have gone to sleep at all!”

 

Peeta blushed.  “It is only because I indulge them with sweets.  I am quite stern otherwise.”

 

“Nonsense!” Finnick directed at Katniss as the servant placed a clear broth before them, green in color and smelling of spring.  “He is worse than a child himself when he is with them, forgetting the gravitas of his office in favor of the ridiculous.  You cannot make a case for your ferocity here, friend,” he teased Peeta, as Katniss laughed at the image before her, of a proper French Capitaine frolicking with children in a most undignified manner.  “We have all borne witness to these moments of levity.  Your reputation as bloodhound has no merit with us.”

 

“Well, I must admit a fondness for children but do not advertise this fact. Military officials are not permitted the luxury of gentleness,” Peeta answered, bringing a spoon towards his lips.

 

“Especially under the purview of the good Commandante Snow,” Finnick interjected knowingly, to which Peeta only raised an eyebrow and took a sip of the soup.  Katniss followed suit, wondering at the subtle communication between the two men.  However, she was quickly arrested by the flavor of the broth.

 

“This is wonderful!” she exclaimed.  “Compliments to your chef!”

 

Annie beamed with pride. “A special recipe inherited by my mother, God rest her soul,” she crossed herself before continuing.  “I am pleased that you have found it to your liking.”

 

There was nothing Katniss did not find to her liking on one of the loveliest evenings of her life.  When they parted, Annie promised to call on Katniss to offer her assistance in the preparations for her upcoming nuptials.

 

Peeta’s duel with Cato was not mentioned even once, an event Peeta treated with little concern and for which Katniss was happy to banish temporarily from her thoughts.  

 

However, as their hired carriage brought them to Katniss’ door, her anxiety and fear all but overwhelmed her as she clung to Peeta when he had helped her from her seat.

 

“I will not sleep this night for fear that you may be harmed,” she said, her nerves sending a shiver through her frame.

 

“You worry overmuch. I have told you, your concern is unwarranted. The duel is a mere formality whose resolution will favor us both.”

 

“You are too optimistic!” she insisted.  “You place yourself in danger with little regard for your health, because of me,” she held his face in her hands. “If I broke our engagement, you would not have to submit yourself to this contest of honor.”

 

Peeta froze at her words, a pall falling over his features before he schooled his expression and gave her a smirk.  “That, I am afraid, is impossible.  As you said earlier this evening, you are infatuated with me.  You cannot break your engagement. I won’t accept it.”

 

“Peeta…” she began, fully prepared to sacrifice her happiness for his safety..

 

“Enough!” he said sternly, never raising his voice but the command was evident.  “We won’t speak of this again.”

 

She made to protest but he covered her mouth with his, continuing the kiss that had been interrupted earlier.  When she was mindless with want, he pulled back and rang the bell of her residence. He stared down at her. “Good night, _ma perle_.  I will come to collect you at the appointed hour.”

 

At that, he returned to his carriage. She was not sure how long Johanna waited in the doorway of their new home, but Katniss stood for a long while on the step even after the carriage had vanished from view.

 

**XXXXX**

 

They met on the open plains of Lauriers, to the south of the city and far from interfering eyes.  It was not uncommon for crowds to gather to watch the spectacle of two men dueling, but Katniss was surprised at almost carnival-like atmosphere on the field.  There was nothing the good society of Le Cap loved more than the prospect of bloodshed.  This would indeed prove a promising contest as military men were renowned for their prowess.  

 

Annie held Katniss’s arm, locked firmly in her own. Without Peeta, none of the ladies present deigned to speak to them, which suited her just fine. Today, she had very little patience for such trifles, her eyes following Peeta everywhere he moved.  He struck a formidable figure, with his crisp red military uniform, though Cato stood a full head taller than him. It was not only his military dress that distinguished him. Peeta had a natural air of command and a single-minded determination.  After several moments, as Katniss watched the men confer on the particulars of the contest, Annie tugged at Katniss’ sleeve.

 

“You mustn’t worry. The Capitaine is renowned for his excellence with the rapier. From the conversations that I have overheard, it would appear Peeta is favored for victory.”

 

“Then why would Cato challenge a contender who is so clearly superior to him? I fail to see the benefit to him,” Katniss wondered, thinking back on her own experience with Cato. He was a favorite of Johanna’s, who often encouraged Katniss to consider his numerous overtures, if nothing else, because of his wealth.  However, Katniss had learned her lessons well from Madame Trinket and exercised that instinct for observation and her own power of choice by turned down the man’s petition to consort with her.

 

“Many men derive pleasure simply from being at the center of attention. Monsieur Alexander is well known for his pomposity, but it does nothing to temper his lust of spectacle,” Annie turned her warm, brown eyes towards Katniss, smiling with reassurance to her new friend.  “I assure you, Cato will derive no real satisfaction from this match, except to provide a day’s entertainment to those good people of Le Cap.”

 

Katniss nodded, pretending to be assuaged.  As she had correctly intuited in the past, Cato moved with the airs of a vulgar man, a man who had been unwilling to accept her refusal and pursued her in a most ungentlemanly-like way. What she did not tell Peeta, and what she could not tell Annie, was that in actuality, it was not marriage that Cato had offered her, but to keep her as his own exclusive paramour, in a lavish apartment of his choosing, to visit when he liked. He had not sought a wife but a concubine.  Katniss would never accept such an abridgement of her liberties at the hands of such a man. But he knew no limits and there they now found themselves, with his sword foolishly at the ready.

 

She occasionally noted the group of ladies and gentlemen, some hiding behind their white gloves and fans as they pointed occasionally to her and twittered ungenerously.  They were careful to not let the Capitaine hear, but it galled her to watch their hypocrisy as they greeted him and proceeded to eviscerate her within moments of their departure. Madam Trinket had been right not to trust them, and Katniss silently thanked her late mentor for sparing her the disappointment of desiring their good opinion.

 

She stiffened when she saw Cato confer with Monsieur Seneca Crane, who only appeared half-engaged in what the brute said, for Monsieur’s eyes were trained on Katniss with an intensity bordering on the improper.  Her distaste suddenly doubled when she realized that Cato might have consort with the one of the cruelest men on the island.  Katniss shook her head, trying to resolve the mystery of their association. She herself had had enough to do with Monsieur Crane to know that, despite his virtually unimpeachable public demeanor, it was whispered that his private comportment was legendary in its depravity.  Only his excessive wealth and family connections in the Assembly kept him from the dungeons of Le Cap.

 

“What is the connection between Monsieur Alexander and Monsieur Crane?” Katniss asked.

 

“They are business associates, from what I understand.  There is no other connection that I know of,” Annie answered, studying Katniss carefully. But Katniss schooled her features into a mask of indifference.  It was virtually impossible to know what she was thinking at that moment.  She knew one thing for sure - anyone intimate with Monsieur Crane was worse than vulgar.  She would be sure to recount all the particulars to Johanna who, considering her connections, would know the outcome of this duel before the participants themselves did.

 

Soon the gentleman took their positions, Finnick behind and to the right of Peeta, Marvel likewise behind Cato.  The moderator, an unremarkable man by the name of Pierre LaCosta reviewed the rules of combat - a duel until blood is drawn, after which, offenses will be considered rectified and debts repaid.

 

“En guarde, gentleman!” he called out as he stepped back.

 

Katniss heart pounded wildly in her chest, from fear and grudging admiration.  Peeta cut the most striking figure, with his impeccable uniform and noble stance - one powerful leg forward, sword to his forehead, left arm raised in expectation of combat.  Despite Cato’s size, there was a lack of rigor in his stance that announced to all who observed the immediate inadequacy of his experience.  It still confused Katniss why he would risk almost certain disgrace as her eyes continued to fall on Monsieur Crane, whose own gaze flitted between Katniss and the two men before him.

 

At a signal from the moderator, the men lunged, Peeta with uninterrupted lines and skilled sweeps of his rapier, Cato with an uncertain step that made him appear as if he were flailing. Even so, he was determined and lunged frequently, delivering blows that were skillfully blocked by Peeta. Cato stumbled, Peeta danced and so it continued, Cato’s strength compensating for the agility of his adversary.  

 

Katniss gripped Annie’s hand with painful force, as demonstrated by the grimace that crossed the other woman’s face.  Peeta was compelling, but his beauty did nothing to assuage her terror.  The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as her vision blurred, and she no longer saw two men but a god and a monster. One was a vision of male beauty, tall as the famed Indians who once peopled her island but instead of the thick dark curls and olive skin of the Tainos, he was pale, his blond hair like the sun - nothing like the dark images of Papa Dumballah in the secret forests where slaves and mulattos gathered for their voodoo rituals.

 

The other being was a giant, venomous beast with claws for hands and feet, rearing his head, baring fangs dripping with venom as he lunged towards the Sun God himself, and Katniss felt the connection to that golden being as if a coil of light connected her belly to his.  A snake, Dumballah swayed to the side like a shimmer of heat from stone pavement, like the stones before the chapel of Our Lady of Grace, a lady who wore the face of Erzuli herself.

 

Peeta appeared in the place of the Sun God as his rapier flew from his hand.  Cato, in complete disregard for the gentlemanly restraint of fighting against an unarmed adversary, stepped forward to deliver a blow that promised to be more powerful than the drawing of first blood. Katniss’s cry exploded into the air as Peeta pivoted, ducking under the lunging arm and knocked the rapier from Cato’s hand, the deadly weapon circling high into the air before landing in Peeta’s own hand as if he had made an agreement with the blade that it would now belong to him. With the skill and grace of a dancer, he swung his arm outward, slicing the front of Cato’s shirt, a thin line of red drawn with a fine script onto the man’s skin.

 

As was proper, Peeta pointed the rapier down and waited patiently as the moderator examined Cato’s wound.  Calling Monsieurs Lavois and Odair, he proceeded to have them witness the wound before turning to address the Capitaine.

 

“Capitaine Mellark, the duel is at an end, in your favor.  Please shake hands.”

 

Peeta passed the rapier to Marvel before shaking a flustered Cato’s hand.  He turned slowly to survey the crowd, chest heaving with the exertion of the sword fight. With his Commander’s voice, Peeta spoke so that all could hear him.

 

“If any man cares to submit a challenge on the matter of Mademoiselle Everdeen’s honor, speak now!”  His voice echoed in the field, followed by resounding silence as no man dared to raise their objections against the French Capitaine.

 

Peeta scanned the crowds, staring particularly at those individuals who, at one point or another, had so disdained Katniss for her misfortune that she had had to rely on the only things left to her to survive - her beauty and and her wits.  As all eyes fell on her, she raised her chin in defiance, waiting for someone to speak but the only sound was the wind rustling through the crowds - a coat tail flapping as the wind became a gust, a gown billowing outwards like the bobbing of a medusa..  

 

He turned to the moderator and bowed.  “Now, the duel is at an end, sir,” he straightened, as Finnick handed him his rapier and they strode to where Annie and Katniss stood at the edge of the field. The murmurs began as a low buzzing of bees behind the two gentleman as Peeta took Katniss’s hand and placed it on his arm, leading her away from the field of honor.

 

“You were breathtaking,” Katniss whispered as they made their way down the hill.

 

Peeta smiled, flushing with pleasure.  “I told you, one day, we would  thank that buffoon for his affrontery.”

 

Finnick approached, clapping his hand on Peeta’s shoulder. “Well done, my friend. Well done!”

 

“Please, let me invite you and Annie to our home for refreshments,” Katniss said, finally allowing herself to feel happiness at the resolution of these events. However, her joy was short lived when a shout was heard from the field they had only just left.

 

“He’s dead! He’s dead!”

 

Peeta and Finnick sprinted back to the field as Katniss and Annie picked up their dresses, following as quickly behind as their petticoats allowed.  When Katniss made it to the crown of the hill, she saw a crowd chattering noisily, with words like _murder_ and _cheat_ bandied about.  Katniss followed Peeta as he burst through the throng to see Cato sprawled on the grass, blood seeping from the thin wound on his chest.  His eyes had rolled back into his head and foam had gathered at the corners of his mouth.  Finnick examined the body, pulling out the small medical pouch he always carried with him and, after several moments, stood, wiping his hands on a handkerchief.

 

“It would appear, ladies and gentlemen, that Monsieur Alexander has been poisoned.”

 

 **Many thanks to my betas,** [ **solasvioletta** ](http://solasvioletta.tumblr.com) **and** [ **tanbwrites** ](http://tanbwrites.tumblr.com/) **, who have definitely made this story better by working their magic on it. The banner was made by the unbelievably talented** [ **loving-mellark** ](http://loving-mellark.tumblr.com/) **.**

 

**This chapter is dedicated to[thegirlfromoverthepond.](thegirlfromoverthepond.tumblr.com) Thank you for your friendship, dearest!**

 

**I have been working exclusively on this fic for NaNoWriMo and I’ve made a lot of progress on it. This is also the reason for the delay in updating - the focus during the month of November is on brute writing, not editing. I managed to sneak in a bit of editing for this chapter but it did set me back with respect to my word count. Therefore, it won’t be until the end of the month before I update again but I can’t wait to share what I’ve come up with!**

 

 **HG Fanfic Rec:** [ **The Stone Carver’s** ](http://promptsinpanem.tumblr.com/post/131068351870/the-stone-carvers-son) **Son by** [ **tanbwrites** ](http://tanbwrites.tumblr.com/) **, written for** [ **Prompts in Panem: The Farewell Tour, Day 2.** ](http://promptsinpanem.tumblr.com/) **Summary: His love for her will last longer than the stones do.**

 **An Everlark AU based in ancient India, inspired by the myth of** [ **Ahalya** ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ahalya) **.**

 

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!  I am so sorry I haven’t responded to your reviews - NaNoWriMo takes every minute of my free time. I have a week off from work next week and fully intend on responding to all my reviewers. You make it all worthwhile!**

 

 

 

 


	6. Of Ribbons and Orchids

 

**banner by the talented[wwrebel1992](http://wwrebel1992.tumblr.com/)**

 

_ Here are the fruits, the flowers, the leaves, the wands, _

_ Here my heart that beats only for your sighs. _

_ Shatter them not with your snow-white hands, _

_ Let my poor gifts be pleasing to your eyes. _

 

_ I come to you, still covered with dew, you see, _

_ Dew that the dawn wind froze here on my face. _

_ Let my weariness lie down at your feet, _

_ And dream of the dear moments that shed grace. _

 

_ Let my head loll here on your young breast _

_ Still ringing with your last kisses blessed, _

_ Allow this departure of the great tempest, _

_ And let me sleep now, a little, while you rest. _

 

**Green** **_by Paul Verlaine, Romances sans paroles (1874)_ **

 

**A/N at the end**

**  
** **Peeta**

 

“Murderer!”

 

Peeta turned to watch Monsieur Crane make his way through the crowds, repeating his accusation to be sure that everyone present heard him.  Peeta narrowed his eyes at the older gentleman, feeling the same powerful disdain he’d felt for the man when they’d traveled through the forests towards their meeting with Giya Makkube.

 

Finnick, who had returned to examining Cato’s body, also turned towards the gentleman who was now stirring the crowds.

 

“Sir, you have no proof,” Finnick said sternly.

 

“Don’t I!” he exclaimed. “Capitaine Mellark delivered the final sword stroke. It is obvious he poisoned his rapier to ensure that Monsieur Alexander would be felled once and for all, unable to make good on his claim towards this…” he paused as he pointed towards Katniss, the emphasis he placed on that moment of silence pregnant with more meaning than his words. “...This  _ lady _ .”

 

Katniss made to respond to the man but Peeta stayed her with his hand. “Sir, are you insinuating that I somehow managed to poison Monsieur Alexander’s sword so that I might then deliver a death blow, in complete violation of the gentlemanly terms of this duel?”

 

“Not Monsieur Alexander’s sword, Sir. Your own.”

 

“And yet he was wounded by his own sword.  Would it not stand to reason, sir, that it is more likely that Monsieur Alexander himself poisoned his own sword, in the hopes of visiting that fate onto me that he so unwittingly took onto himself.”

 

“Nonsense!  Monsieur Alexander was a man of honor!” Crane exclaimed.

 

“And yet it was by his sword that he fell.  If you recall…” Peeta approached, standing within inches of the man’s face as the accusations fell away under the weight of logic and the witness of two dozen eyes who could testify to his words.   “Your friend disarmed me, and, like a coward, attacked me when my rapier was out of my hand and on the ground. I promptly returned the favor and won by his own sword.’

 

“True!  This is true!” came the response from the crowds.  There had been too many witnesses of the events to deny this and for once, Peeta was grateful for the penury interest that the small-minded had in such proceedings.

 

“Therefore, your friend is not only dishonored by presenting a challenge for a duel he was clearly not prepared for, but he attempted to tilt the contest in his favor by relying on poison, thereby proving himself also to be a cheat.”  Peeta glanced to see two soldiers from his regiment in attendance and barked to the men. “Have the body removed from here at once.  This spectacle is over.”

 

“I demand…” Crane stuttered but the crowds had already begun gossiping about the events of the duel and Alexander’s dishonor. The gentleman had no choice but to hold his tongue. However, before turning to walk away, Crane gave Katniss a look that was at once chilling and so hungry, it was unsettling to witness.  Peeta felt Katniss cringe with revulsion and turn away at once, piquing Peeta’s curiosity and jealousy.  However, there were too many eyes and ears present to pursue the meaning in the man’s actions, so Peeta set it aside to address at another time.

 

**XXXXX**

 

**Katniss**

 

The duel soon faded in urgency both from the public memory and Peeta’s priorities. As the wedding day approached, Katniss and Peeta saw little of each other, each engaged with some aspect of the nuptials.  The only exception was the taking of the sacraments to prepare for the ceremony in the church.  Katniss had not given a confession since before her mother died, for obvious reasons and was less than enthusiastic at having this deficit exposed to both the Monsignor and her future husband.

 

“Monsignor Abernathy is a friend. He has arranged for the church wedding but you must submit to a confession. He has waived many other requirements but he cannot forgo this,” Peeta pleaded.  

 

“I am quite content with a civil marriage,” Katniss said, crossing her arms defiantly. She knew he was right but could not help but chafe at the unpleasantness of having to confess the details of her life to a relative stranger. 

 

“Katniss…” Peeta entreated, looking as if he were ready to kneel down at her dainty feet and beg.

 

She sighed.  He wanted a church wedding. Everyone did. In fact, very few people married exclusively n civil ceremonies and couples who did became objects of gossip among the well-to-do. She couldn’t bear to see him suffer such an ignoble fate.

 

She uncrossed her arms, letting them fall to her sides. “Very well,” she acquiesced. The effect was close to miraculous, earning her a smile and an instantaneous burst of affection from Peeta in the form of a kiss.  

 

Nonetheless, the next morning, when she faced the entrance to the church’s office with Peeta at her side, she felt she was facing a firing squad. At the desk sat a man who could have easily been a quadroon himself, with straight, dark hair and light eyes like Katniss yet more Indian than Negro in coloring.  His indument appeared to inconvenience him, but he bore them with a certain resignation that spoke of a mind that would never be fully convinced of its vocation.

 

“Capitaine Mellark,” he rose to greet them. As he neared, she was certain she smelled the faint odor of spirits when they shook hands. However, he would not be the first clergy to overindulge in the sacraments, having perhaps a less than fastidious attachment to his vows.

 

“Monsignor,” Peeta indicated towards Katniss. “Here is the lady under discussion.  May I present to you my intended, Katniss Everdeen?”

 

Monsignor Abernathy bowed towards Katniss, his face surly and ironic but not without its humor. Katniss suspected Monsignor Abernathy laughed at a good deal of what he encountered during his ministry and found the habit somewhat comforting. She never did enjoy the company of the overly devout.

 

“Well, Mademoiselle Everdeen. I am told some time has passed since your last confession.”

 

“A lifetime, father,” she answered. “And I have a lifetime of sins to confess.”

 

The older clergyman chuckled.  “You will be relieved to know that, given the day of the week, the confessional is at its leisure to receive your testimony,” he cleared his scratchy throat, flinging the flowing sleeves of his habit out of his way in annoyance. “The people of my parish store up their sins for Saturday or Sunday. The confessional resembles a port, full of little boats laden with their stores of transgressions, entering and departing in a continuous procession of penance, only to be filled again with the same sins the following week. Perhaps the black marks on your soul will amuse me?”

 

Katniss glanced at Peeta with a smirk, not sure whether to be pleased or terrified by the man, taken aback by his flippancy. “You are entertained by sin?”

 

“Only the sins of others, my lady. I have long since lost the means or credibility to skillfully commit my own.” He turned to Peeta. “If it is true what the lady says, you may return in one hour to collect her…”

 

“Perhaps a bit more, sir,” Katniss chimed in, holding her gaze steady as Peeta raised an eyebrow.  Monsignor Abernathy laughed to himself, nodding his head thoughtfully.  

 

“The good Capitaine can tarry another half hour then. Come, Mademoiselle. Let us endure this last formality on your journey towards holy matrimony.  Good day, Capitaine.”

 

Peeta held his hat uncertainly as Katniss allowed herself to be escorted to the small wooden door of the confessional. Within it’s dark confines, she observed the small window covered by a velvet drape beyond which Monsignor Abernathy would listen as she lay her soul bare.  She huffed to herself and wondered at the many sacrifices that a woman must endure in the name of respectability. Had she loved Peeta a little less, she would have turned on her heel and walked out of the church.  But her love was too ardent for such an act.  So, after the benediction, Katniss began the long and arduous task of confessing her various transgressions.

  
  


**XXXXX**

 

Katniss assigned Johanna to the preparations of her new home for the reception. It would be the first time Katniss would host guests there, if only to share a meal and witness the bride and groom drinking from the Coupe de Mariage, a filigreed cup that had been in her mother’s family for generations.  It was left to her with her trousseau, one of the few things Katniss had been able to preserve from the loss of her parent’s wealth.  Madam Trinket had retrieved it from the nuns and saved it for her, perhaps in a fit of sentimental hope, together with a calculation of the worth of the items contained inside, which could be of use to Katniss in some distant future.  Katniss held the delicate cup in her hands, made of silver, possessed of two handles which both the bride and groom held when they drank their first cup of wine together, as a symbol of their union in marriage.

 

But not everything was complete and Rue was charged with monogramming the remainder of Katniss’s trousseau. It was a simple wood box covered in elegant carvings commissioned by her father from a former slave, who, Katniss found out later, added bits of African lore to the engravings - the first woman resting in a hammock as the first man, gathered herbs in preparation for their first night together - mingled with more familiar scenes of matrimony, like the dove and the sharing of the marriage cup or Adam and Eve. Each panel was carved in elegant bas relief and sealed with a heavy lock, the key to which Katniss guarded with her life.

 

Annie became indispensable in this period, with her experience at managing a chaotic household full of children and visitors seeking out her husband, she helped Katniss plan her wedding meal and showed Rue an elegant stitch to use on the items of the trousseau. All was made easier by Johanna’s acquaintance and confidence with the young doctor’s wife, and soon, Katniss could not remember a time when Annie was not a part of her small circle of friends.

 

“Be still so I do not prick you with my needle,” Annie admonished Katniss as she worked to take in the wedding dress. Katniss’s mother had been slender, like Katniss. And yet, when she had measured it, she’d found the waist too loose for her liking. Annie courteously offered to take in the excess material.  At length Johanna joined them and paused to admire Katniss.

 

“Your dress is magnificent!” she said, in a rare moment of admiration.  “You will dazzle your  _ Chevalier Blanc <white knight> _ with your beauty.”

 

Katniss turned her head to the mirror and observed that the dress truly was a masterpiece. Made of cream-colored lace, the fabric had been delicately interwoven with strings of pearls that ran from the bodice to the hem.  From afar, the pearls were a paen to perfection, their matched sizes creating uninterrupted lines of symmetrical beauty that hinted at the astounding value of the dress. However, upon closer inspection, each pearl revealed itself to be small and tear-dropped shaped. A precious few were perfectly rounded specimens, but each shiny sphere was different from the next. It was a credit to the skill of the seamstress, who had arranged each pearl such that the best side faced the world, hiding the gems’ imperfections from all but the most astute observer.  Katniss prized this dress above all others, for it was one of the few remaining artifacts of her parents’ love, for her mother wore the same dress when she had sealed the bond of marriage to her father.

 

A lace trim adorned the bosom and the three-quarter sleeves while long, silk ribbons fluttered from the waist. It was a wedding tradition that would be mimicked throughout the day, when ribbons would be hung from the door of their home, announcing their union.  Similar ribbons would also be affixed to her wedding bed as an auger of good fortune for the newly married couple. Katniss’ heart pounded when she turned to the bed she would soon share with Peeta - large and wide, made of heavy wood with four tall posts draped in gossamer mosquito netting. The bedding had already been aired out and prepared - cool linen sheets embroidered with small green and orange birds that called to mind spring time and meadows.  

 

Remembering Johanna and Annie, Katniss whispered, “Thank you.”

 

“He has addled her mind!,” Johanna complained as she sat next to Annie at Katniss’ feet while the young seamstress measured and decided how much material to take in.  “She has taken a bite of the  _ pain blanc (white bread) _ and now she can think of nothing else.”   

 

Annie dissolved in peals of laughter while Katniss blushed furiously, glaring at her friend for mortifying her.  Annie wiped the tears her laughter provoked. “But that is as it should be!” Annie protested, setting a pin in the pin cushion.  “When I prepared to marry Finnick, I was so mindless with both terror and anticipation, I was barely able to dress myself!” She pulled another pin from the pincushion, her entire demeanor becoming more serious. “As you know, his family opposed our union,” she added, without bitterness.

 

“Because of your poverty?” Johanna asked bluntly, while Katniss forgot her shame and suddenly became curious about Annie’s circumstances.

 

“Yes.  But not only!  They were offended, both by my lack of wealth, but by my audacity in attempting to earn enough to relieve the burden of poverty on myself and my family.” Annie’s voice changed as if she were affecting an other person.  ‘ _ A seamstress is no lady for my son _ ,’ was what his mother told me. I was judged more harshly for being employed than for any other moral or financial failing.”

 

“That is quite superficial. And yet…” Katniss said quietly.

 

When Johanna glanced up, she wore a fierce expression of condemnation.  “And yet that is the way of the world.  As you have already discovered, the  _ Zoreilles*  _ of Le Cap are particularly intolerant.”

 

Katniss had observed this disdain towards herself, even when she was in Peeta’s company and understood this principle precisely.  “I have had the opportunity to experience their cruelty.”

 

Annie stood, gripping Katniss by the shoulders.  “You gain nothing from their association. They are vainglorious, privileged and cruel. Peeta’s position insulates you, therefore they must restrain their most base comportment. But I have seen their ostracism, and they are ruthless in removing those of whom they do not approve.”

 

Katniss frowned at Annie’s words - her acquaintance with that society was limited to the time spent with her clients. This aspect was new and made her insecure again. She thought there were certainly many high born ladies of the island who would have been delighted to marry Peeta despite his lack of wealth. She calculated the privileges he would possess with a more favorable alliance and was suddenly saddened at the sight of herself in her wedding gown.  Peeta had been so concerned about his material disadvantage with respect to other suitors but never paused to personally consider what he might lose in his union with her.  She felt Johanna’s eyes on her and turned her face away, as if she would shield her thoughts from her observant friend.

 

“Those who rule are quite ruthless. It is said that among the slaves on the plantations, there are penuries that take place that cannot be spoken of, so great are the abuses.”

 

Annie dusted herself off. “My husband is adamant that we not keep slaves under any circumstances,” she glanced at Johanna and Katniss and, perhaps noting they had not become offended, continued. “It is immoral to keep human beings in chains, to use at will, as if they were beasts of burden.”

 

Katniss looked to her friend, who was legally her slave but was also the dearest person to her heart.  Her thoughts also flew to Rue and was at pains to see her as property either.

 

“Johanna and Rue are my slaves by law but they are most precious to me. Poor Rue, when I consider the condition we found her.  Do you recall it, Johanna?”

 

“Yes, she had been quite abused.  She belonged to Seneca Crane,” she said but the name was enough to make the blood drain from Annie’s face. 

 

“Monsieur Crane is a most intimidating man,” Annie whispered as she placed a handful of pins in the pincushion.  “He is a harsh master, or so it has been rumoured.”

 

Johanna shook her head. “He is, only at the very least, an intimidating gentleman.  His vices are many and, as it has been recounted to me, it is rumored that he takes pleasure in inflicting pain on others.  His slaves are quite miserable and even his paid servants escape in fear of him.”

 

Katniss, who listened to their exchange in silence, stepped down from the stool and walked away from the ladies under the pretext of removing her dress.  But what she longed to do was escape this particular discussion. Her memories of Monsieur Crane were plagued with loss, death and mortification and she pushed them quickly from her mind, for if she dwelled overlong, she would become despondent and, together with her earlier thoughts of Peeta, she felt her humor fall. 

 

Annie and Johanna continued their gossip as Katniss carefully removed the dress, handing it to Johanna, who hung it carefully before returning it to the armoire, for fear that it might be seen, for it was a great superstition that no one but the bride’s attendants see the dress before the wedding day.

 

Katniss offered Annie further refreshments, but she declined, for the sake of her children. “I must return. It is near time to nurse Maggie,” she smiled, looking down at her swollen bosom.  “It will soften me a bit for I am full. Are you quite ready for tomorrow?”

 

Katniss smiled at the small woman, so energetic and clever, the only person who accepted her without reservation and, against her reserved nature, embraced Annie. “I am. Thank you for your kindness.”

 

When she pulled back, Annie was smiling brightly at her, with obvious pleasure at her words. “Peeta is not alone anymore. When he speaks of you, he becomes another man and that brings me more joy than all the wealth in the Antilles.  I care for nothing else.” She turned towards Johanna.  “And you!  Take care that you behave as a proper lady tomorrow!  Your language and behavior must be unimpeachable!”

 

“As you wish,  _ maman _ !” she said but the attention softened her, and she parted ways with her friend after a warm embrace of her own.

As Johanna closed the door behind Annie, Johanna glared at Katniss, observing the change in demeanor that had overtaken her friend.  “You’re face betrays your thoughts.”

 

“You cannot know what I am thinking,” Katniss protested.

 

“I do and you will not even think of canceling your wedding,” Johanna scolded.

 

Katniss’ eyes widened. “You pretend to know my thoughts before I know them myself!  You are a witch!”

 

Johanna ignored the insult. “When Capitaine Mellark went on his last expedition, you became afflicted with a terrible melancholy, body and soul. Do you recall?”

 

“Yes…”

 

Johanna gave her a stern look, as if she would cane her.  “You would have made yourself sick with missing  _ le Capitaine _ ,” she said almost derisively, as if his name alone made her impatient. “I do not mean to understand this connection you feel to that pale man but you are useless without him. You have been...infected...by a deep affection for him and, despite how he wears on my nerves, with his sentimentality and earnest nobility,”  Johanna rolled her eyes before continuing, “It is clear you both have a great love for one another, though how you can tolerate him...”  

 

“But he would have so many other advantages with another woman, of greater virtue…”  Katniss whispered, staring at her hands.

 

Johanna pursed her lips, shaking her head as if Katniss were a wayward child. 

 

“And those so-called virtuous women can all jump in the bay!  He wants you!” Johanna exclaimed in exasperation.  “And I will wager, the moment you carry his name, and the  _ Zoreilles  _ of the city realize that he has made you his wife, you will find them swarming at your feet like the cockroaches they are. Mark my words, Katniss. You will find them underfoot and long for the days when they ignored you.”

 

“Annie says they do not admit her to their society,” Katniss said.

 

“Annie, for all the love I bear her, is the wife of a doctor!  They will procure his services, regardless of the manner in which he is received in society. It is his sworn duty to heal all ills. But the  _ Capitaine _ ...” she poured a glass of water for each of them and handed one to Katniss, “He is a figure of great authority. They will seek to influence him, and you will become a means to that end.  You must hold your place and use your wits so that they do not fool you into false friendships. I have heard of the manipulations of the Louvoirs and Heavensbees,” Johanna took a gulp of her water and set the glass on the table.  “ _ Parazits _ , all of them!”

 

Katniss rose from where she sat and approached the balcony that overlooked the sea. She knew in her heart that this was so, even before Johanna had said the words. It was Peeta’s unspoken reason for hurrying the marriage, with little or no engagement.  She would be accepted, not by virtue of who she was but by virtue of his position.  Any change in his condition would represent a change in her condition also, all of which lay outside of her control.  Katniss felt a sudden unease at the loss of independence, for she would now function as an extension of her future husband. She considered Annie and the way she, too, had become “the wife of the doctor” and was Annie no more, and reasoned it was the way of women to become a part of their husband’s identity.

 

But this natural resistance to her loss of freedom warred with her affections for the Captiaine, which grew in intensity and dependence each day. She had no hope for it, she loved him, body and soul and was willing to trade the thing she prized above all else to be his. Katniss looked up at the clear sky, searching for an answer before casting her eyes out to the sea.  There, in the distance, a family of dolphins chased after one another. The father, bold and powerful, at the front of the group, with the mother, herding their offspring nearby. The leader of the pod was oblivious to the movement of his family behind him - he was intent on frolicking but also on the protection of the group. She imagined the sleek, grey nose diving into the water in search of danger, unconcerned about his family because the wife had taken the situation in hand and managed it accordingly.

 

Katniss smiled as she felt Johanna’s approach from behind.  The wind from the sea whipped the hairs that had come loose from her braid as she nodded.   _ Yes, that’s it, she thought. _  Her thoughts flew to Annie and she realized that Annie had found her way around the problem of her dependence too and felt her estimation of the young woman rise even higher. 

 

“Thank you,” she whispered into the air, the call of seagulls answering her. 

 

When Johanna took up her place next to her, Katniss turned to her ally and best friend, her bandit in all matters, both material and sentimental. “Johanna,” she began, studying her carefully as she spoke. “I am both enriched and impoverished by my union with Peeta.” Johanna’s eyes widened briefly from the familiar use of the Capitaine’s name. 

 

“I admire Annie’s entrepreneurial spirit. It is time we adopt the same.  Our fortunes are no longer completely dependent upon us alone and, for all the love I have for my  _ pain blanc _ ,” Johanna chuckled and Katniss along with her.  “We must be also ensure our independence if the tide of fortune changes, for fate is a fickle and cruel mistress.”

 

Johanna’s eyes brightened. The thought of money and, in particular, the way in which to gain more, brought her more happiness than any other enticement.  “I am intrigued. What do you propose?”

 

**XXXXX**

 

That morning, contrary to what she’d anticipated, Katniss was serene.  Rue and Lavinia, their new servant, attended the preparations of the home, while Johanna helped her dress. They would remain while Johanna and Mother Seeder escorted Katniss to the courthouse. Katniss wanted a driver to take her and leave her at the church, suggesting this as a measure of propriety.  But Peeta objected that it was customary for the groom to arrive at the bride’s door and walk with her to the church. Therefore, he would do the same.  He would not spare one tradition, not one ounce of decorum, in the execution of their wedding. 

 

So, Katniss thought nothing more of it as she sank into the steaming bath water, perfumed with oils, a first step on the path to her new life.  It was a symbolic gesture to wash away all the troubles and worries of her previous existence. Katniss intended to spend additional moments in that water where flower petals floated on the surface, for she knew she had much to wash away.

 

As she massaged the petals in her hand, she thought of the last day of her life as herself, a woman who, whatever could be said, had learned to take care of herself and had lived according to her desires and wishes, under the limits life had imposed onto her.  She would be married soon and in the eyes of the world, she would have a new master. But her fear had slowly abated. She knew her  _ Master  _ and knew he would command her only in name. He was gentle and fierce, willing already in so small a time to sacrifice so much for her well-being.  She would maintain her independence because it was what he loved about her. Of this she was certain.  As she reclined back against the makeshift pillow Rue had made from scraps of material sewn into a sack, her young servant entered in her customary way to complete her toilette.  

 

“M’lady, which oil do you prefer?” she said, her voice trembling, and Katniss realized the girl was excited.

 

“The floral mixture,” Katniss pointed before reclining against the pillow again to enjoy a few more moments of rest before she rose from the water. Though it was just before dawn, the day promised to be balmy and warm - typical for August on the island. But the ocean wind that swept through the bedroom softened the blow of the heat, and Katniss hoped it would continue to do so for the remainder of the day.

 

Rue dried Katniss, collecting the large droplets of water as they rolled off of her skin with the piece of silk that she insisted on using with her mistress. Rue captured Katniss’ hand as she stepped onto the stool. It wobbled a bit and without warning, Katniss found herself stumbling onto the young lady.  

 

“Oof!” Katniss exclaimed as she fell but the girl who appeared so slight was actually remarkably strong. Katniss flung her arms around the her waist as she bore Katniss’ weight up, steadying her mistress with her strong arms.

 

“I have you, m’lady,” she whispered.  As Katniss straightened, she paused when she felt the small protrusion of her young lady’s belly.  Both women stiffened as Katniss hands slid over her swell, holding each other’s gazes fixed.  

 

“Are you well, Rue?” she asked quietly, looking directly into the young girl’s bottomless dark eyes.  Rue, who was of a more delicate character than her mistress, dropped her eyes before her scrutiny and nodded.

 

Katniss thought of her previous master and paled in horror.  She turned so the girl would not see her face as she donned a silk robe that lay on the bed for her, taking her time so that her mind could mull over the possible consequences.  She had seen Rue with a young man selling fish in the Seam. She prayed, for the girl’s sake, that he was the explanation. The young girl, meanwhile made no move to assist her mistress, but stood with head hung low as she awaited Katniss’ pleasure.

 

“You were in Master Crane’s home,” Katniss said gently, unsure how she should approach the matter and wishing, with all her might, that Johanna were here instead.  “I have heard many things about his...preferences…” she swallowed hard as she struggled and failed to find the words to express herself to the girl.   “Did he…did he ever...?:

 

Rue shook her head and finally brought her eyes up to look at her lady.  “No, Madame. I was fortunate...he is not the father of my child.”  Rue rubbed the small swell of her belly lovingly, and Katniss repressed the urge to do the same.   How long until her belly was swollen like Rue’s, heavy with Peeta’s child?  

 

Katniss let out a visible sigh of relief. “I was afraid he had...misused you...in some way.”

 

Rue frowned with a memory. “No, m’lady.  He said I was too...small...for his liking.”

 

Katniss nodded, feeling sick to her stomach but, remembering her position with respect to her young friend, hid her horror from her. “May I ask who the father of the child is?”

 

“I don’t think you know him well, m’lady,” her eyes widened in sudden panic, which animated her frame. Gone was the subservient girl that Katniss was accustomed to and was replaced by a desperate woman.  “Please, madam, I will continue as always. You will barely notice my condition. I will work as hard as ever. Do not punish him. We...what else could we do?”  Rue burst into sudden tears, sobbing at Katniss’ feet. 

 

Katniss remembered the strong young man with the straight white teeth, kissing Rue with passionate familiarity. She was her mistress and could do as she saw fit with Rue. After all, she had violated article 16 of the Code Noir, which stated that she should not consort under any circumstances with slaves from another master. Her child would belong to Katniss, and soon Peeta and there was little Rue could do. She was within her rights to fetch Rue’s partner and press the issue with the law.  

 

But Katniss thought of the day when she saw Rue with the young man, she did not see two properties, two slaves consorting with one another. She saw a young man in love with a young woman and in her heart, she had blessed them. She did not have this instinct for property that should have been second-nature to any of the free-born of the island. She had been a witness to love and in the great depths of her own despair for the Capitaine, she had augured them well. She could not, now or ever, do otherwise for her slave girl.  

 

She knelt before the sobbing figure of the girl who had brought only silk and tenderness to the care of her lady.  She held her, rocking her quietly, for Rue’s desperation was great.  Katniss heard the creaking of her bedroom door opening and soon found Johanna on the ground next to them.

 

“What happened?” she asked Katniss.

 

Katniss looked at Rue for silent permission, which she gave with a small nod of her head.

 

“Rue is with child,” Katniss said, indicating with her head towards the pitcher of juice Rue had brought earlier together with the unused glass. “Fetch her a bit of the pineapple juice, please.  She is weakened by her troubles.”

 

“Ah,” was all Johanna said as she did as Katniss asked.  Johanna’s lack of surprise made Katniss suspicious. When Rue had been calmed and her face washed, Katniss said to both of them, “When the wedding has passed, we will discuss what we can do.  Do not fear for your beau. I will not seek to prosecute him, nor allow my husband to do so.”  Katniss pet the girl’s hair.  She was barely seventeen.  How complicated her life had suddenly become.

 

Rue nodded, wiping her face, swollen with tears. “Thank you, mistress.”

 

After she had taken her fill of juice, Rue left the room, her delicate steps receding on the staircase. When Katniss was sure no one would hear her, she turned to Johanna, an accusation evident in her very stance.

 

“You knew,” Katniss said.

 

Johanna did not look even mildly perturbed by her complicity. “I was sure you knew also when Mother Seeder last visited.  You have been too occupied to address the situation.”

 

“You can be quite certain that I did not know or suspect in the least. How far along do you believe her to be?”

 

“According to her, it has been four months since her last rhythm.  She has not often been with the young man,” she answered. 

 

“What is his name?”

 

Johanna pulled out the chair from the vanity, dusting the seat. “Thresh, I believe.”

 

Katniss sighed wearily, taking the proffered seat at the dressing table. “It presents...complications. The young man is not free-born?” she asked, knowing her answer but hoping anyway.

 

“No. He is a slave, but his handlers are very liberal with him.  He is part of the fishing concern and is permitted to work as a fish seller and even manage Monsieur Crane’s  money.” 

 

Katniss froze at the sound of Monsieur Crane’s name, practically hissing at the mention of the man.  “I cannot abide any dealings with Monsieur Crane.  You know my position with respect to that  _ Salopri _ .”

 

Johanna nodded.  “I know how you are...particularly repelled...by the man. However, you may not have need to enter into contact with Monsieur Crane. Rue has not told Thresh that she is with child.” 

 

Katniss turned, her eyes wide with shock. “Why not?  He must be told!  It is his child!” Rue would either have to be sold back to Crane or Thresh would have to be purchased by Katniss. However, as Katniss considered the costs, she began to worry that she might not be able to maintain herself or her servants in comfort, particularly in light of Peeta’s salary. 

 

Katniss strummed her fingers against the vanity, noting in passing that the sun had already risen. She would have to think about the matter at a later time.  

 

“I cannot solve this now. Johanna, it falls to you to assist me in my toilette.” Katniss shook her wet hair out, trying to concentrate on her own wedding, which was only a few hours away.  “I don’t want to keep Peeta waiting.”

 

Johanna rolled her eyes but did as she was told and began brushing the knots out of her mistress’ hair.

 

**XXXXX**

 

The knock on the door came just as Johanna placed the finishing touches on her dress. Katniss looked at herself in the mirror, admiring the vision before her.  Her nerves were frayed - they would take the walk from their house to the church, where the Monsignor himself would oversee their ceremony. Rue would stream ribbons and flowers before them, as well as anyone else who wished to do so. Weddings were both private and communal affairs, the citizens of the town invited to participate as the bride and groom wound their way towards their destination.  The idea of so many eyes on them made Katniss go weak in the knees, for she never desired to be the center of scrutiny for so many.

 

Rue guided her down the stairs.  She had been unbearably shy towards her mistress since their discussion of that morning, but Katniss took care to pet the girl, softening her shame.  Katniss could no more reproach Rue than she could bring harm to the tiny parakeets that kept her company on the veranda.  Rue blushed and relaxed after Katniss reassured her, gathering her basket of ribbons and petals to strew before Katniss’s feet.

 

As Katniss reached the foot of the staircase and stepped toward the vestibule, she saw him standing in the doorway, the light of the morning sun framing him at his back. He wore the military uniform reserved for official ceremonies and such rites as these, that mark the major events of an island or a life.  He was stunning in his white overcoat, shirt and britches of a blue color that could not quite match his eyes but were daunting nonetheless in their vibrancy. Katniss was sure they were new.  His hat rested perfectly on his head, the longer blond curls tied with a ribbon at the nape of his neck, a fact she noted as he bowed in greeting to Johanna.  When he turned to Katniss, he froze, taking in her appearance with a reverence beyond the physical.  She saw in him a breathless affection that robbed her also of all coherence until a discreet clearing of the throat brought their attention to the present.   

 

Peeta stepped towards Katniss and captured her hand in his, bringing it delicately to his lips. “I did not think it was possible, but you look more beautiful than ever,” he said, his voice thick with feeling. 

 

“And you are splendid in your military dress, Monsieur,” she answered, curtseying before him, as was customary on such days when propriety shielded the participants from the more extreme expressions of their acute emotions.  For Katniss felt anticipation ball at the pit of her stomach, and even Peeta, with his unflappable manners, appeared overwhelmed by the moment.  There was a glassiness to his eyes that he blinked rapidly away, taming his own agitation with a deep, steadying breath.

 

He placed her hand on the crook of his arm and led her out of the house and down the streets with Johanna and Rue assuming their places before them, Johanna bearing a basket similar to that of Rue.  As the small entourage wound their way down Via Montmartre onto the main avenue, crowds began to gather.  Rue sprinkled flower petals of varying colors and type along the road while Johanna tossed candied almonds into the crowds, particularly where there were children, who ran up to tug at the ribbons tied specifically to Katniss’ dress for this purpose. She paused to snip the ribbons before clinging to Peeta’s arm again.  Katniss wished she could bury her face in his coat, but instead, drew strength from his steadiness, becoming more gay as children danced around her. 

 

Spontaneously, Katniss heard the beginnings of the clapping of the slaves and freeborn alike in the crowds as they began chanting the traditional wedding song, typical of the residents of Le Cap.  They drowned the murmurs of the well-to-do, who appeared affronted by the spectacle of Peeta escorting Katniss to the church, though it was customary, and she had made her confessions only the day before. Katniss knew it was precisely because of the opprobrium that the folks along the road burst into song.  That and because she was a quadroon, and despite the population’s diffidence towards Capitaine Mellark, the crowds became animated, at first discreetly, and then with more vigor as voices joined in the clapping and singing, stomping and chanting, building to a frenzied crescendo in the air and in her soul.  It called to her - through her people, their song, their blessing, flowing through her like the turbulent sea rushing through the sand dunes at high tide.  Peeta looked down at her, at first amused as they approached the church’s plaza, the pounding of hands and feet creating a rhythm that made Katniss feel drunk with its power.  She stared back with the incantation in her eyes and heart, now full with the wonder of her love for him and the humor drained from his face as he became affected by the power that had seized her. The words were hard to discern but everyone on the island knew the Erzuli Fredas’s blessing by heart:

 

_ May the lady fill your days _

_ with harmony and peace _

_ and your nights with fire _

_ and hunger for each other _

_ so that your womb will grow full _

_ with the fruit of your union _

_ Lady Freda, lovely Erzuli _

_ may she fill your hearts with love.  _

 

The ribbons that Annie had so carefully affixed to Katniss’s dress were gone. There was a strange nakedness to her, as if she had been stripped of all her previous life.  The chanting and singing faded when she entered the door of the church, dissipating in the somber, incense laden darkness of the ambulatory. At the altar stood the Monsignor, who looked like he'd spent half the night with a bottle of rum. 

 

Two red velvet chairs were set before the him, as he waited patiently for their arrival. Despite the festive atmosphere of the town surrounding the church, only the intimate gathering of participants sat within.  Finnick and Annie, smiling in encouragement, would witness the ceremony, Rue and Johanna representing Katniss’s bridal party and Sir Darius Devereaux, general counsel who had agreed to draw up the civil documents at the church, rending the ceremony legal in the eyes of the law.  Having forgone a formal betrothal, Katniss’s parents and only other guardian, Madam Trinket, deceased and Peeta’s family in France, there was no one else to represent the bride and groom, nor were there complications relating to the actual ceremony. There was only Katniss and Peeta, which in some ways was a relief to Katniss. But in moments such as these, she felt her family’s loss most acutely.

 

Monsignor Abernathy rubbed his face before inviting the bride and groom to take a seat on the chairs provided.  Peeta helped Katniss to her seat, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled away to take his own.  Katniss caught his eye, offering him a small smile, meanwhile crossing and uncrossing her hands on her lap as the Monsignor brought his hands up in prayer.

 

Katniss barely heard the benediction, so great was her anxiety.  Her eyes flit towards her future husband,  who appeared as afflicted with feeling as she was, tapping his leg maniacally with his restless fingers until he caught Katniss’ gaze. He visibly relaxed, but she desired nothing more than for the Monsignor to get on with the service.

 

“I require and charge you as you will answer at the dreadful day of judgement, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed that if either of you do know any impediment, why you may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, that you confess it. For be you well assured, that so many as be coupled together, otherwise than God's word allows, are not joined together by God, neither is their matrimony lawful.”  The silence was heavy as everyone in the church appeared to hold their collective breaths. The tension was broken by the Monsignor’s voice. “Please rise.”

 

Katniss stood unsteadily, her legs stiff from having held her muscles rigidly in place.  Her terror lessened when Peeta took her hand in his large ones, cocooning it in their heat. She felt sturdier, safer than she had only moments ago.

 

“Will you, Peeta Etienne Mellark, have this woman to your wedded wife, to live together under God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, keep only to her, so long as you both shall live?

 

With a trembling voice, Peeta replied, “I will”

 

“Will you, Katniss Primrose Everdeen, have this man to your wedded husband, to live together under God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you obey him and serve him, love, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, keep only to him, so long as you both shall live?”

 

“I will,” Katniss whispered, just loud enough for Peeta to hear.

 

Monsignor Abernathy took Katniss’s right hand and placed it in Peeta’s right hand, which he cradled as if it were made of crystal. “The ring, please.”

 

Peeta removed from his pocket a small, simple band with the engraving of tiny dandelions along the outside. It was beautiful in its delicacy and skillfully crafted in all its detail.  Katniss cherished her pearl but something of the ring’s design touched her heart, for it was precisely the ring she would have expected him to give her.

 

“Will the groom please repeat after me…With this ring I thee wed: with my body, I thee worship, and will all my worldly goods, I thee endow.”

 

Peeta lifted his eyes from the ring and with solemn sincerity, repeated the words to Katniss, as if they had never been said to anyone before and would never be uttered again, “With this ring I thee wed: with my body, I thee worship, and will all my worldly goods, I thee endow.”

 

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, Amen,” Monsignor said.

 

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, Amen,” Peeta repeated.

 

“Those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder.  For as much as Peeta Etienne Mellark and Katniss Primrose Everdeen have consented together in holy wedlock and have witnessed the same before God, and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth to each other and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands, I pronounce that they are man and wife together. In the name of the Father, of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

 

Katniss stared at Peeta, unable to comprehend any of the words spoken but knowing, in a moment that she had bound herself to him forever, provoking silent tears that slid unhindered down her cheek.  Peeta was likewise spellbound, unable to withhold a solitary tear of his own in response to hers. They held each other’s gaze for several moments until Monsignor Abernathy cleared his throat and leaned in to address Peeta.

 

“You may kiss the bride, Monsieur. She is yours now,” he chuckled before leaning back.

 

“Indeed, she is mine.  Always,” Peeta muttered as he leaned into her and kissed her gently, but firmly.  Katniss was still overwhelmed at the monumental shift but pressed back in kind, kissing Peeta until the polite clapping of the handful of people in the church reminded them that they were still in a public place, and a place of God no less.

 

“God speed to you both!” Annie exclaimed as she met the couple at the altar.  “You make such a fetching pair.”

 

“Many, many good wishes for a life of happiness, my friend!” Finnick said, clapping his friend on the back, giving him a hearty embrace before passing him to Annie.  Katniss turned towards Johanna and Rue, who both sat discreetly in the pews, and opened her arms.

 

“Do you not give good wishes to your mistress?  Or have you forgotten that you, too, are my friends?”

 

Rue, who had been sobbing quietly, rose slowly, following Johanna’s lead. It was not customary for slaves to tide their masters well or acknowledge them at all, even in public, unless they were required to serve. But Katniss had never given a care to such comportment and cared even less now.

 

Johanna, wearing a sullen face, clasped her mistress to her. “You are my sister, you love-addled fool,” she muttered in Katniss’s hair, provoking her laughter.

 

“Would that you would feel what I feel at this moment, Johanna.  Happiness is too weak a word for the sentiment. You would not worry so much if you understood.”

 

“I have no choice. I must believe you,” she said, turning to Peeta and curtseying deeply before him, wished him well, Rue following closely behind. 

 

“Come to our home to celebrate,” Peeta said, clasping Katniss to his waist.

 

All those who had the good fortune of laying eyes on the newlyweds that day, as they made their way back to their home with their friends in attendance, would remember the radiant couple, poised upon the first step of the rest of their lives togethers. Despite the various difficulties of station and wealth, they prepared to face all things with optimism and strength, both of which they had in abundance. Little did they know they would need every ounce of that fortitude, both human and divine, to endure the storm that would soon rock the foundations of their island and change the very face of the civilized world forever.

 

**XXXXX**

 

**Peeta**

 

When the  _ shivaree  _ died away, Peeta pulled Katniss away from the window, closing it against any further intrusions by their exuberant friends.  Men from Peeta’s regiment had appeared and raised a toast to their Capitaine and his new bride.  The small company Katniss had expected swelled, testing Lavignia and Johanna’s capacity in the kitchen.  But there were glasses and cake and champaigne for all, the revels lasting well into dinner and the late evening, ending with the typical merrymaking beneath their window as the guests banged pots and pans and serenaded the hapless couple with merry music of their own. 

 

Katniss’s shift swayed gently in the breeze that snuck in through the wooden slats and from the open balcony that faced the sea.  Peeta’s laughter slowly died away as he finally gazed at his wife who studied him in turn with eyes darkened by the dim light and by a desire that had ripened after a month of abstinence.  The humor of the banging pots and loud tins became another memory in the backdrop of their lives, ]the first of many, he hoped. The idea of building a life with Katniss provoked all the longing that had been smothered by the stresses of preparing the wedding, and all he could think of now was her hands on his skin. 

 

“ _ Mari mwen _ …” she whispered suddenly, the sound of the words  _ my husband _ in her tongue lancing his heart with brilliant, pure joy.

 

“ _ Ma femme _ …” he whispered in return as he reached forward to touch the small dimple that appeared just under her lip every time she swallowed.  His finger dropped down to the bow resting in the valley of her breasts, below the dusky, grey pearl that hung like a guard at the ready  He slipped his finger into one of the loops and tugged gently, undoing the ribbons that held her thin shift in place, the slow unraveling of the soft material whispering as it slid across the skin on his hand like a cool burst of sea air. The thin fabric fell without protest from her shoulders and onto the floor, leaving her naked before him.  His eyes roved over her skin, his chest rising and falling with an excitement that made his skin tingle.  He saw in the way she looked at him that the wait had been heavy for her also.  

 

He reached forward to cup one heavy breast, the nipple hardening instantly in his palm.  As he slid his thumb over the hardened peak, her breath hitched in her throat, and with that small movement, the air becoming difficult to come by.  She did nothing to repress the unfurling thrill his actions provoked. She wanted him - it was clear from the quivering of her body as she held herself in wait for him.

 

He sensed her impatience to have him and pulled her suddenly against him, his naked chest pressed firmly against hers, as if he would squash the distance that he had forced between them, for the sake of propriety. But propriety did not make her wet like his touch did. He slid his hands down her flat belly which fluttered beneath, searching for her wetness. He captured her lips, licking the tender flesh of her mouth before plunging simultaneously with his fingers, causing her to buckle against him.

He pulled away, reaching behind her to grasp the swell of her ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh before pulling her up against him and grinding into her.  Her moans excited him as she gripped his shoulders to keep from falling, crippled by the feeling of his hard cock straining through his breeches against her belly, heady with the spell that her strong hands wove over his body.   She rained kisses along his neck and chest until his hand wound into her hair, grasping a handful and tugging her head back to look at him. 

 

“I’m sorry,  _ mon cherie _ , but the first time will be quick,” he said breathlessly.  “I have waited too long for you and it was almost more than I could bear,” he ran his tongue over the shell of her ear, nipping at the soft skin of her earlobe.  “One more day, and I would have thrown all good intentions to the wind and forced myself on you, like a common cad.”

 

“And I would have let you, like a common wench,” Katniss said with a half smile that served only to bedazzle him with its seduction. He released her, undoing the tie of his pants and letting them fall to his feet, his cock springing free triumphantly.  The idea of being inside of her left him dizzy, and he kicked his pants away to pull Katniss to him, his kiss this time rougher, more insistent.  He plundered her mouth, filling her with the taste their month apart. It was sweet with expectation, heavy with longing, and she responded with impatience equal to his own.

 

He lifted her, so that she had to wind her legs around his waist.  He did not bother with the bed, pressing her against the window frame, impaling her with his rigid cock as she held onto him for dear life. 

 

“ _ Mon coer,  _ _ Tu es à moi et personne ne peut dire le contraire, <My heart, you are mine and no one can say otherwise> _ ” he murmured in her ear, covering her in wet kisses.  He reared his head back find himself suddenly adrift in the stormy seas of her grey eyes, while each thrust of his hips became a wave that threatened to carry him away.  Sweating from his efforts, he lifted her away from the wood and carried her, still joined together, to their bed where he fell onto her, burying himself to the hilt inside of her.  She writhed and moaned, muttering his name with other endearments he did not know. She was on fire and when she came, the flames rose up to engulf him, spreading over his skin. He rode her hard, the sound of their skin slapping together filling their bedroom. Their breaths and grunts mingled, her cries rising over them, erasing the sound of the sea crashing on the rocks below.  

 

“ _Il ne faut pas attendre aussi longtemps encore . S'il vous plaît_ _< Do not make me wait so long again, if you please>,_” she whispered, at which he chuckled, nodding in agreement.  After, she lost all coherence, each thrust a rising crescendo that moved between their bodies through their every muscle until he was close to exploding. The idea that Katniss was now his wife, and no one could protest their being together in this way, was enough to bring him to the edge. More than release, it was relief that built within him, the waiting resolving itself in a homecoming as his body sought to let go of all the privations of a month without her, now that there was no longer any impediment between them.  

 

He was sure he heard the sea sing to him with a sweet woman’s voice, sending a song along the waves, approving their union, blessing the night.  The smell of Katniss’ orchid floated up through the open windows, flooding the room with it’s sultry scent.  In the midst of that fragrant assault, he finally came, bowing his body in agony, whispering desperate words that would remain theirs alone,  the secret language of lovers.   When he held her tightly afterwards, their skin cooling as the sea drifted into their room, the smell of their bodies rose to mix with the scent of salt and the perfume of the orchid.  The sound he thought was music was the distant call of birds, both melodic and feminine. Peeta lifted his head to listen, smiling before setting down next to his wife, who played with his hair until the curls were wild on his head.

 

“La Sirena is pleased with us this night,  _ met mwen _ ,” she whispered, and he felt his heart swelling with joy as the birds continued to sing. He gave up, for one night, his disbelief, for he truly felt the goddess’s favor. All the doubt he had had until then seemed childish in the face of such complicity.  He would doubt tomorrow, but tonight, they had come together as two storms crash over the sea, waves and foam, the moon and the stars. It was written before time that they should be together. Who were they to question such things?  Peeta lifted his head from the pillow and smiled devilishly down at her.

 

“Well, if that is so, let us not offend our lady.  We must pay homage to her in the way that she best understands,” he said, lowering his head to kiss her with a heat that promised that the night would not soon end.

 

**XXXXX**

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on historical accuracy:
> 
> To the best of my research, I believe I have depicted the details of an 18th century wedding in the Caribbean, from the ribbons on Katniss’ dress and the procession to the church, including the vows. However, there is one willful misrepresentation, which is the chanting of the natives as Katniss arrives at the church. While there would have been some rituals in a voudou ceremony, this would not be one of them. I exaggerated this for the purposes of the story.
> 
> Be sure to check the oneshot, The Fish-Seller, an outtake written for Yuletide in Panem’s Christmas drabble challenge, which sheds light on the beginnings of Rue and Thresh’s relationship. I truly enjoyed writing that outtake and a similar one planned for Finnick and Annie as well as Johanna. Thank you for your patience on this update!
> 
> HG Fanfic Rec: Yuletide in Panem - a Christmas blog featuring vignettes from your favorite characters from the Hunger Games set during the Holidays.
> 
> Many thanks to solas-violetta, akai-echo, thegirlfromoverthepond and lvfics for betaing this chapter.
> 
> Let me know what you think of this one!


	7. Outtake: The Fish-Seller

****Banner by the amazing[akai-echo](akai-echo.tumblr.com).** **

**A** **_The Pearl of the Antilles_ ** **outtake**

**Written for[Yuletide in Panem’s](yuletideinpanem.tumblr.com) Christmas Drabble Writing Challenge.**

****

**November 1789**

****

When I arrived on the Monsieur Seneca Crane’s residence in Le Cap, I possessed the faculty of speaking proper English, French and Creole.  My mistress, and Crane’s now deceased aunt, Madam Fevre, had trained me to be a lady in waiting. She had not intended for me to be a hired hand on the plantation fields. That was for the likes of the recently arrived, the poor, desperate souls stolen from their lands in Africa and brought, naked and consumed by sea sickness, to the ports of Le Cap.  

****

No, my place was at the side of the wives of diplomats, merchants and governors.  She had made that much clear in her will when she bequeathed me to her nephew, as part of his inheritance.

****

Perhaps because of this, Monsieur Crane despised me.

****

When he installed me as a kitchen maid, I accepted my lot, for what other choice did a slave have?  Even if I spoke twenty languages, sang like the angels, or was as beautiful as the Madonna herself, it did not matter. I even had a secret gift that he did not know of. I could read a little, something slaves were not allowed to do.  But all of these talents meant nothing because I was no better than the footstool at my master’s feet.

****

As the newest acquisition, and subject to the jealousies of the coarser kitchen maids because of the relative leisure of my previous employment, I was assigned wash duty and worked in the kitchen as needed.  I should have been grateful - I would permanently reside in Monsieur Crane’s home in Le Cap and never see the plantation where it was rumored that he ruled with the iron fist of cruelty.  Even so, I looked at my fair hands, which had not seen harsh work in all their lives, the skin smooth and dewy - and said a silent farewell to them as I plunged my hands into the wash. I saw the advantages of my gifts float away in the soapy, hot water of the kitchen wash and wondered forlornly if my station would ever improve.

****

**XXXXX**

****

I was fortunate that Monsieur Crane spent most of his time far from his home in the city. The household, tolerable when he was away, became tense and unbearable in his presence.  And he never tired of making me pay for what he perceived was my idle nature.

****

“My aunt kept you like a pet, so you have forgotten your place in the natural order of the world,” he spat when I tarried too long to bring him his tea.  In his impatience, he knocked an inkwell onto the floor, it’s viscous, black liquid leaving a smattering of dots along the front of my apron skirts.  

****

“Go on, you lazy cow.  Get on your knees and clean that mess. And take care that you wipe every last drop or I shall flog you one lash for each stain you leave behind.”

****

Trembling, I got down onto my knees, first wiping, then scrubbing, all the while thanking Papa Dumballah that the floor was stone and not wood or I would have to take those lashes no matter how much effort I put into cleaning the mess left by Monsieur Crane’s indignation.  He rose from his place, making sure to kick me with his boot as he walked by, leaving a welt on my thigh. I could only imagine, if I were forced to live each day in the company of such unrestrained wickedness, I might escape into the mountains, if I made it, or happily take the penalty of death instead.

****

**XXXXX**

****

I heard of Thresh Arceneaux before I ever laid eyes on him him. On the days when the fish-seller called at the kitchen door, the maids sprinkled themselves with floral extracts, borrowed or made, and took care to comb through their hair, oiling dry, neglected locks to tame the wayward wisps caused by the perpetual humidity.  The ladies chattered with the expectation of being spoken to by the young man as if he were King Louis himself come to visit his subjects.

****

The first time I finally saw him, he sat silently at the kitchen hearth. He was a privileged one, for he carried the master’s money from the wharf to the master’s accountant and was allowed to buy and sell, carrying on his person the explicit written permission of his master sealed with Monsieur Crane’s seal.  I did not speak at all, only watching as the maids fawned over him. Feeling shy beyond all measure, I withdrew to the pantry so I could watch without being caught.

****

Magdalene, a waifish brown girl with large, dry curls and hands hardened by labor, brought the young man a portion of leftovers from the master’s meal, an offering the young man wisely refused, for if he was caught being fed without Monsieur Crane’s permission, he would risk punishment for stealing.  He did take the mango nectar, raising the glass to his lips and swallowing almost with one gulp the thick liquid, it’s fragrance reaching across the room to where I stood watching the bobbing of his neck.  

****

I became annoyed with myself. I had other challenges, such as trying to avoid being beaten by Monsieur Crane and pleasing the Loas so they would give me the strength I needed to endure my current situation.  I had no time for distracting myself for even a moment with such things.  And still I watched.

****

He took to his feet before the warm cooking fires, stretching his long, powerful muscles.  I was struck at by how large he was - he filled every empty space in the kitchen, whatever was not occupied by swishing skirts, pots, pans, food and furniture. He was everywhere at once and his sheer corporality stole away my breath. I was seventeen, and though slim, I was not a short, frail girl.  And yet he still managed to dwarf me.

****

But he had another disadvantage, one that I could not forgive him for, the one defect that would make me hide each time he appeared at the foot of the kitchen door.

****

He was beautiful.

****

His skin was the color of ebony, so dark it shined in the sun, a bottomless well of black that made my light brown skin look pale beside his.  On an island where, the darker the man, the more likely he was to be judged brutish and animalistic, he wore his blackness with a pride bordering on insolence.  His brown eyes took in everything - when the ladies of the house fell over themselves to serve him a bit of cassava or cod fish in sauce, he was busy discreetly surveying everything with his quick eye. There was nothing brutish about a mind that appeared so attuned to every detail around him. He was, in a word, mesmerizing.

****

On his third visit to the kitchen, I was asked by old Madame Valmont, the cook, to bring tea to our guest while she fetched payment for the fish.  The ladies who usually descended on the young man like a murder of crows were dispersed throughout the house with the instructions to prepare for the annual Christmas ball that evening.

****

I gathered the tea set and, with such nerves that I thought I should faint, brought the young man his refreshments.

****

“Tea, sir?”

****

He looked up from his place before the fire and appraised me with eyes like onyx, lingering on my face until I was forced to look down.

****

“ _Swazo daus <Sweet bird>, _” he said, his eyes twinkling with humor.

****

I looked up in shock at the endearment but recovered quickly, hoping to remain cool and composed where the others would likely be hysterical. For reasons I did not wish to examine, distinguishing myself from the other kitchen maids mattered more than anything. “Sugar or honey?”

****

He shook his head, his face becoming grave.  “I will not take sugar while my brothers and sisters are in chains.”

****

Shocked at his audacity, I did not fail to hear the sing-song lilt of his speech and quickly understood that he had not been born on the island.  “How many years have you lived in Saint Domingue?”

****

“Since I was nine,” he answered, taking the tea from me and sipping it. “I speak French and Creole now, like the white men do, and they think I am tame.”

****

“Sir, you forget yourself and speak unwisely,” I admonished him, shocked again by the sudden intimate tone he had taken with me.

****

“I am not unwise to trust you. I knew that from the moment I caught you in hiding in the closet, like a tiny bird in a chicken coupe.”

****

“That is unkind, given how those chickens receive you and cluck around you with only a care for your comfort.”

****

“They see the a face, a body. They do not understand a man’s soul,” he set down the cup and stood up.  “I have much work to do. It is Yuletide and the _Zoreilles’_ bellies must be filled,” he turned to me, with that same familiarity as if he had long known me and I was the daft one who had forgotten our acquaintance, took my hand and kissed the knuckle.  “May I call you Rue?”

****

“How do you know my name?” I asked, pulling my hand back, cradling the limb as if it had been branded by his lips, as if that should have mattered.  But it did.

****

He smiled, the light reaching his bottomless eyes, but he did not answer. Upon closer inspection, their depths had more texture, like boiling cacao, where light and steam glinted off of the surface in a sporadic and uneven dance. “Until next time, _little bird_ ,” holding my hand a moment longer than necessary before releasing it.  “Au revoir, Madame Valmont.”

****

“Good bye, Monsieur Arceneaux!” she said, waving at him from her place at the counter.

****

I opened the door of the kitchen, through which he stepped without another word onto the cobblestones that led up the walk and onto the public road.

****

**XXXXX**

****

When the revelers from Monsieur Crane’s ball had finally retired from their festivities early the next morning, the servants, many of whom who had been awake most of the night to serve the guests, began the arduous work of cleaning the dance hall of boughs of evergreen, melted candle wax, spilled punch and gilded decorations sprawled in every crevice.  The kitchen maids prepared the late repast for those whose stomachs might be tender from too many spirits.  As much as I tried, and as exhausted in mind and body as I found myself to be, I could not rid my mind of the impressions made by the young man.  He had called me a bird and indeed, I felt like one - quick to flit and leap about, without peace or contentment. Except I had no wings and could not fly and if I had to attribute a melody to myself, it would be one of loneliness and now, of vague longing.

****

I gathered my table covers and towels that had been used in abundance during the previous night and stumbled outside to the wash basin.  Most of the girls paid me little mind and I said very little to those around me, each day presenting itself like a mountain to be traversed until night came and I could be left to myself to the protection of darkness and the oblivion of sleep.  I filled the wooden bucket with water from the well. Setting a small fire to warm the water for the wash, I mechanically added the coarse soap to the water.  

****

In the distance, I heard a call like a bird. It was pleasant at first, a warbling melody quite unlike any I’d heard before, almost too harmonic for such feathered creatures.  But when it became loud and insistent, I realized that it was no bird at all, at least not one of the variety I was familiar with.

****

“Little bird!” came the fierce hiss from the ivy-covered iron fence surrounding the yard where the servants worked.

****

“Who’s there? I asked, panicked by the voice of a man so near to me.

****

“Little bird, do you not comprehend your song?” chuckled the voice and I saw in an instant through the rails, partially hidden by the climbing green plants, Monsieur Arceneaux, his devilish eyes twinkling with mischief.

****

I stepped quietly, careful that no one see me before I reached the fence.  “I speak well enough for men to understand,” I said dryly, though if I were true to myself, I would admit that it made my heart leap to think he might be back only to see me.

****

‘Here,” he thrust a package wrapped with worn red material through the gate. “It is Christmas, even for us.”

****

“Sir…” I protested, completely disarmed by the forward nature of his attentions, “I cannot…”

****

“Look at it first. Do not throw away my work,” he pleaded.

****

I sighed in disapproval but unwrapped the lumpy thing, the corners of the once lavish wrap now frayed and discolored. I paid no mind to the impoverished wrapping and instead searched within. It was a bird, carved with delicate attention from wood. The figure of the creature that rest so lightly in the middle of my hand was defined, down to the striated lines along its beak and the texture of its feathers and wings.  It was lavishly done, with a careful attention to detail.  When I looked up, I was overwhelmed by the generosity of the sculpture.

****

“How did you do this in one night?” I asked, awash in a myriad of conflicting feelings - awe, fear, excitement, and far beneath, a magnetic compulsion to know more about this mysterious man.

****

“I began to make it when I first saw you.  It has long since been complete but,” he faltered, so unlike the sharp confident man he had been until now.  “I waited until the proper occasion to give it to you.”

****

I stared at him, at his imprudence but was hard pressed to be offended. “I’m sorry, sir, I have nothing for you.”

****

He smiled, perhaps relieved that I had not scorned his offering.  “But one day you will,” he leaned into the gate. I caught his eyes, framed with thick, dark lashes. Lines of laughter crinkled around those midnight eyes and he had two deep dimples that made him look both impish and innocent at the same time. I thought for an instant I saw what he meant, what I would eventually give him. It sent a thrill down my spine, the air suddenly heavy with prophecy and expectation. I curtseyed, as I had been trained to do when taking leave of someone. I I knew I should return to my labors before I was scolded by Madam Valmot or boxed on the ears by Magdalene.  But his voice, honeyed and sweet, like the cool night air that breathes relief on your ears, called me back with a tone to match the longing growing in my heart.

****

“ _Jwaye Nwèl ti zwazo <Merry Christmas, bird> _,” he said before turning to disappear into the thicket of jungle leaves.

  
  
  


 

 


	8. The Tempest

  


**_Love, free as air, at sight of human ties,_ **

**_Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies,_ **

**_Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame,_ **

**_August her deed, and sacred be her fame;_ **

**_Before true passion all those views remove,_ **

**_Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?_ **

 

**-from Eloise to Abelard by Alexander Pope**

  


**Chapter 7 - The Tempest**

 

**_August, 1790_ **

 

**Peeta**

 

“You musn’t. I won’t allow it,” Katniss said, with a deep scowl. Peeta would have been taken aback by it, even perturbed, were it not that his wife, the most exquisite creature to grace his eyes, sat naked across his lap on their bed, employing every one of her irresistible charms to conquer his will. And she would have succeeded, had it been his will alone that she was defeating.

 

“Commandant Snow has returned from Port au Prince and ordered me to come to him tomorrow morning. I warned you, _mon coeur_ , that our honeymoon would be short.”   


Katniss practically growled, nuzzling him like a cat.  “But it has only been four days, husband,”  she complained against the skin of his neck, the reverberations of her words traveling in a direct line, down through his heart and settling at the base of his stomach. She was right.  In reality, Peeta had managed to extricate himself from his administrative duties for one week - one long, precious, week - and had looked forward to reveling in his woman’s arms, sating himself, if only for a painfully short little while, in her hair and skin.  That even such a short digression from his life had been cut even shorter angered him even more but he was determined not to waste time in useless arguments or recriminations.  

 

Using one of his grappling techniques, he surprised Katniss by maneuvering her onto her back, hovering over her. She squealed in surprise and flung her arms around his neck, her hair fanning out in a cascade of ebony darkness over the pillow.  

 

“Come, my love, it is but a small interruption to our revels. I promise to repay you the offense of my absence,” he murmured, latching onto one of her dark nipples, which reacted instantly to his lips. Everything about her seemed designed to respond to him, her body calling out to him even when she was not near.  Her sighs, her pliance at his touch, the unconscious calling of her hips to his - each day, he was convinced more and more that she was made only for him.

 

“You will return?” she asked as she clutched his curls and tugged him closer against her.

 

It was his fervent hope but he could not bear to disillusion her if the Commandant ordered him to some new task, for he knew Snow would care very little that he was interrupting his Capitaine’s wedding week. Instead of being forced to disappoint her, he kissed his bride - a long, dizzying kiss that, for a moment, pushed every thought of the Commandant from both of their minds.

 

**XXXXX**

 

“It is my understanding that congratulations are in order,” Commandant Snow said by way of greeting.  He saluted Peeta and insisted on the formality as he waited for his officer to respond in kind.

 

“Sir,” Peeta saluted him before his superior officer nodded, giving the Capitaine permission to relax and take the seat across from his desk.  The office was fashionable, even by the island’s standards, a near perfect example of impeccable taste and quality. The bust of Commandant Cornelius Snow stood like a vulture perched on a marble limb, waiting for carrion to fall. The vast room was covered in yellow walls of clawed, gold filigree, while a chandelier hung with opulent vigilance, its white glass almost menacing in the precision of its sharp crystal.  Peeta had carefully wiped his boots upon entering, fearing to mar the carpet, of Moroccan origin, likely holding the value of his annual salary in its spun gold and red threads. The final watch was completed by the heavy portrait of the Commandant himself, staring down his nose at the proceedings with the haughty air of a monarch, his pure, powdered-white locks pulled back and tied with a ribbon to compliment his virtually perfect military uniform.  But the severity came, not from the his military dress, but from the ice of his pale-blue eyes, which appeared to be waiting for something, perhaps blood or poison, to fill their near colorless depths.

 

It was in complete contrast to the barrack’s office in which Peeta labored when he was not out in the field. He wondered briefly to himself if he would not forget he was a soldier, were he to work in such opulent conditions.

 

“Thank you, sir. We are only five days married,” Peeta said, bowing his head toward the older man in acknowledgement, attempting to ignore the humidity that went unmitigated in the grand room.

“Splendid,” Snow responded slowly, letting each syllable hang in the air like fruit waiting to be plucked from its branches.  The older man straightened in his chair, holding Peeta’s attention with that ineffable quality that the gentleman possessed of forcing a person to fix their eyes upon him, rendering them unable to look away, much like a snake hypnotizes its prey.

“I have watched you progress in your career. You are a rare one, sir, among many of your comrades.  You are one of my few truly competent Capitaines.  You’ve also acquired the loyalty of your regiment.”  Something in Snow’s eyes flickered as he said this, a malignant shadow perceiving the threat they all knew to be true, that the hundred or so men in Peeta’s regiment and several hundred from others, would sooner follow the Capitaine than even the esteemed Commandant himself.

“As such, it is my obligation to instruct someone as worthy as yourself with the expectation that you will continue your maturation until such time that you may be offered an even greater command.  However, in a society as...primitive...as this, it is not a man’s professional comportment that may undo him.  Often, it is personal indiscretion, both small and large, that will place an end to his rise.”  Snow fixed his eyes on Peeta, watching him carefully, allowing the words to settle, each moment that passed becoming heavier with disapproval.

Peeta felt the prickle of defiance creep up his spine, straightening it as the words of the Commandant hung between them.  He did not wish to allow the thought to form in his mind. He would abide no insult from any man, not even from the Commandant of the French forces of Saint Domingue himself. Peeta prepared himself for the rebuke, and the definitive response that would follow.

However, Commandant Snow, instead of completing the insinuation, observed Peeta for several more moments, perhaps waiting for the younger man to falter under his scrutiny.  Peeta, for his part, was not unfamiliar with the ways of his commanding officer and therefore schooled his features, projecting serene professionalism, determined not to give the older man the satisfaction of quailing before him.  

 

When Snow had tired of his game, he abruptly turned his attention to a sheaf of parchment and placed it at the center of his desk.  “It would seem, Capitaine, that your marriage to the quadroon, Katniss Everdeen, could not have taken place at a more propitious time.”

 

Peeta slowly expelled the breath that he was holding, feeling the tension flee the room as if sucked out by the sea through the large, curtained windows of the lavish office. He felt rivulets of sweat run down his back and could not be sure that it was the stifling heat alone. The Commandant's words were certainly not the ones he had expected to hear. “Monsieur?” he asked in honest confusion.

 

Commandant Snow chuckled as he searched through the documents.  “I had initially intended to send you to the Western Island to quell the uprisings on the plantations as well as capture and remand the escaped laborers to their rightful masters and mete justice to those captured in the manner of our laws.  However, a matter of utmost delicacy has arisen.  Have you had opportunity to make the acquaintance of Monsieur Brutus Oge’?”

 

Peeta nodded, searching his mind for every detail regarding the political figure of Brutus Oge’.  Influential member of the Société des Amis des Noirs (Society of the Friends of Blacks) , Oge’ was a well-known supporter of emancipation. “I know of him, Commandant, but I have never had the pleasure of his acquaintance.”

 

Snow passed the sheaf of parchment, bound by ribbon.  “I consign these missives onto you.  He arrives in Le Cap within the month.  Mayordomo Heavensbee is preparing a welcome ball for him, though, as you can imagine, he is not a favorite among the landowners.  There are many, however, who share his philosophy.”

 

Peeta flipped through the papers, glancing at Snow in askance. “Will I be following him?”

 

Snow chuckled. “Indeed, you will use your men to track his movements.  However, I have also procured an invitation to the ball for you and your bride.” He pulled out an embossed envelope and slid it across the desk towards Peeta.

 

Taking the envelope in hand, Peeta turned it over and studied the flaring script of the invitation, addressed directly to him and his wife.  The paper was of the most excellent quality, written by a careful and orderly hand. “And the objective, sir?”

 

“Your objective is to ingratiate yourself to Sir Oge’.  I cannot ascertain his motives and it is of great concern to myself and the plantation holders of the Colonial Assemblee.  Though he has been invited to speak in Port au Prince, last winter, he withdrew a large quantity of gold from the Central Bank of Paris, the origin and current location of which is unaccounted for.  It is a sum greater than anyone of his social station would require for a political excursion of the kind he has proposed. Together with the unrest in the Western plantation and his own political ambitions, I fear he may have more than speechmaking on his itinerary.  Your wife’s particular status and her renowned social gifts,” Peeta bristled at the unspoken insinuation from the Commandant's speech, crumpling the edge of the parchment as the Snow continued his discourse, “-will dispose him most favorably to an audience with you, as his wife is also a quadroon, though she is French-born and raised.  It is quite fashionable for emancipationists on the Continent to marry such exotic specimens as will most promote their political objectives.”  Peeta was sure Snow sniffed in disdain but the gentleman was careful to not further reveal what Peeta knew were his true thoughts on the matter.

 

“You are quite aware, sir, that I have no interest in politics nor in advancing into the field at this moment of my life,” Peeta said carefully, watching the old schemer assess him with those fine, bloodless eyes.

 

Snow chuckled at the Capitaine, steepling his fingers before his aquiline nose.  “No, indeed. Of this I am most certain. For someone so capable, you are perhaps the least ambitious of my officers.  You have other ideas and, as events of late can testify, you act on motives entirely of your own discernment, propriety be damned.”

 

Peeta bit his tongue.  He had been trifled with long enough during this interview and feared if he lingered any longer, he might forget the difference in their rank. He gathered the sheaf of papers before him, resting them on his knee. “Indeed, I am committed to upholding the laws of our country. Everything else is...beneath...my interest.”

 

Snow stared at him for a few beats longer before he rose from his chair, prompting Peeta to follow suit.  “You have your orders, Capitaine Mellark. You have arranged for a temporary absence to celebrate your nuptials.  I wish you well on the remainder of your days and hope you will find a few moments to peruse the information before you make the necessary arrangements.  You are dismissed.”  Snow saluted him, to which Peeta responded with one of his own and, in perfect accord with regulations, turned swiftly on his heel and strode out of the interminably long office into the corridor that led outside. He wasted no time in gathering his horse and racing back to his barracks, the wind created by the galloping steed a respite from the oppressive heat of the Commandant's office.  Peeta would assign his men and set everything in motion, as he had been instructed.

 

And then he would take a long ride along the hills surrounding Le Cap to think through his meeting with the Commandante.  His mind was in turmoil as he considered Snow’s various insults as well as the newest player in the politics of this small but instrumental island to the continent, and the danger he represented to its current stability. Certainly, the enslavement of a population, when scrutinized, was an immoral outcome, reducing the African plantation workers to a pitiful state over which their white tormentors ruled with cruelty and scorn.  Their emancipation on the Continent was possible because France did not maintain the sprawling sugar plantations found in the Caribbean, plantations that required intensive human labor to produce the most valuable commodity in the civilized world.  But would the same be possible on this island?

 

Finnick often argued vehemently against the treatment of the enslaved, holding up numerous example of educated, influential mulattoes, including his own wife, Annie and her friend, Johanna as confirmation of the equality of all races. However, many of Peeta’s countrymen argued that mulattoes were softened by their white progenitors and civilized by the intermingling of blood and their exposure to white society. They would point out that plantation slaves could barely speak at all and were feral in their mannerisms.  To suddenly emancipate them all, they argued,  would only lead to pure chaos, as plantations and cities would suddenly become overrun by people who were unaccustomed to the institutions of a civilized society.

 

And yet, how else could emancipation be won but with blood?  For Peeta did not delude himself that it would be achieved any other way.  That very same blood that would win freedom for the more than one million slaves would also jeopardize the society he was sworn to defend.  How could he resolve this conflict, which grew ever more acute in his heart?

 

He thought of Katniss and wondered how she would fare under such barbaric circumstances and felt his blood run cold.  Though he despised the instrumental manner in which Snow had greeted Peeta’s marriage, and would have sooner kept Katniss far from politics, he could not ignore the fact that his success in this endeavor to deflect Oge’s possible schemes could only assure her personal safety and possibly the preservation of their very lives. And her well-being was more important than his service to the country, Snow be damned!

 

Peeta remained conflicted as he swept the upper hills and turned eastward to the sea and toward the battlements above which their home was situated. He would not return to Katniss in this spirit, for when he next held her, he would not carry the ghost of his preoccupations to her. There was still the matter of her acquiescence, something he could not estimate as given yet.  In any case, he was still on his honeymoon and he wished only to dote on her before the world beyond their marriage suite intruded, with all its complications and treacherous demands.

 

**XXXXX**

 

**Katniss**

 

Katniss dressed soon after Peeta left, taking her time as she fitted her slender figure with the thin layers of petticoats she used in the summer, selecting a peach-colored shift with matching thin frock that accentuated the natural color of her skin.  A smile sprang to her lips as she tied her thin bodice, admiring herself in the long mirror, pleased with the way she appeared to give off a luminescent glow, even in her own eyes. Her happiness was a barrier between her and the world, a viscous mist that filtered the voices, the sounds, the very appearance of all the things she had once found familiar, paling the unpleasant aspects and allowed her to see only the good in everything.  

 

She hummed under her breath as she brushed her hair and, instead of twisting it up into a bun on the top of her head or braiding it, she tied, with a ribbon, a loose ponytail that swayed playfully down her back.   It was evident to her, in the compulsive manner in which Peeta played with her hair, that he preferred she wear it loose.   The thought of this, compounded with the litany of memories and impressions left by Peeta provoked in Katniss a powerful impulse to run about madly and squeal in delight.  

 

However, she pushed away the spontaneous urge to laugh, a levity of feeling she had not experienced since her father was alive. It was simply not part of her nature and hence, the urge to howl in happiness provoked, not joy, but an instantaneous terror, for Katniss was not accustomed to happiness of any kind, or at least not happiness that could endure for very long.

 

She turned from her place before the mirror and nearly tripped on Peeta’s spare boots at the foot of the bed. She smiled again, and thought her face would freeze in the attitude of that stupid grimace, lips pulled up practically to her ears, deep dimples etched permanently onto her cheeks. One day, she would be annoyed by his habitual inability to set his boots more carefully away but today, they reminded her that he now shared this room with her, this house. She would wake each morning and find him near her and go to sleep each night surrounded by his arms, which made her feel safer than she’d ever felt since her parent’s death. They would shared their life together and it filled her with mindless joy.

 

Katniss stepped into the corridor outside their bedroom, leading to the stairs down which were the kitchen, the salon, their dining room and the veranda where she preferred to spend most of her days when she was not with Peeta, tending her ever-expanding garden. The house was remarkably quiet and Katniss wondered where her ladies were. Hugging her arms to her chest despite the intense, suffocating heat, she wandered through her plants and small trees. August was a harsh month on Saint Domingue, full of humidity and spontaneous, torrential downpours as thick as the fabled monsoons of India.

 

But her garden did not complain. It was filled with her exotic herbs and plants that thrived in the native, oppressive environment. As she rubbed the vibrant, waxy leaves of a young lemon tree, she sensed the room behind her fill with a presence and heard the tell-tale jangle of bracelets. Without a doubt, she knew that Johanna had arrived.

 

“How was your interview with Mother Seeder?  Did you locate her?” called out Katniss, for Mother Seeder was a mysterious creature who did not always allow herself to be found. Johanna materialized at Katniss’s side like a genie of old, wiping her sweaty brow with a handkerchief that she quickly tucked back into a supple leather bag on her belt.

 

“I did!  Mother Seeder will call on you in three days time.  She has promised to introduce you to several contacts who will pay well for your infusions.”

 

“That will be of great help to our small enterprise,” Katniss said with relief as she returned to the library with Johanna in tow.  Katniss had decided, through Johanna, to prepare herbal infusions for medicinal and ritual purposes and sell them. Some of the herbs were so rare, and their effects so miraculous, that customers would pay handsomely for them.  It would be a supplement to their lending activities, which had been robust and lucrative of late and made Katniss optimistic that she would be able to compensate for her lack of income.

 

Katniss pulled open a drawer, within which rested a tome, heavy and clearly of great value, for she kept it wrapped in silk cloth, separated from the other books in the library. Johanna’s eyes fell upon it when Katniss removed the cloth to reveal an ornately designed cover of the most pliant leather.  She thumbed through the costly pages of bound parchment, many of which contained plant drawings and sketches, with accompanying script beneath the illustrations.

 

“Your mother’s plant book?” Johanna said, running the tip of her calloused finger over the supple cover.

 

Katniss nodded.  “It is the collected knowledge of my mother and grandmother and great grand-mother for generations before that. They kept a record of the plants they encountered and now, it will serve us well. I am quite sure that no one possesses such knowledge, not even the book keepers of great monasteries in the most remote corners of the earth. I have added to it, though my drawings are not as fine.”  She pulled it up and placed it carefully on the desk, it’s heft as ponderous as it’s pedigree, heavy with the weight of so much tradition. “No one must know of its existence but it will guide us in the materials required for our small venture.”

 

“Has Monsieur Mellark approved your current endeavor?” Johanna teased as Katniss replaced the book in its soft resting place, wrapping it again in silk and shutting the drawer with a key.  “He is your master now.”

 

Katniss could not help but smile, for she had not revealed her lending business to him either. “He is a busy man. I do not think it necessary to bother him with the trifles of running his home.” Johanna chuckled but suppressed it when Katniss gave her a pointed look.  “I doubt very much he would have any objection. It is an old, noble trade, one my mother’s relations often engaged in before she married my father.  The knowledge of herbs is strong in my family and now I will use it to benefit mine.”  She glared at her friend, who seemed to be close to exploding with mirth.  “You find me humorous?”

 

“I am merely happy to note that matrimony has not quashed your independent spirit,” Johanna responded when the sound of the main door opened and closed shut.  Rue entered breathlessly, curtseying as she wrung her hands nervously.   

 

“Are you only just returned from the market?” Johanna asked in astonishment.

 

“Yes madame. There was quite the excitement as Commandant Snow rode through the center of town.”

 

“Indeed,” Katniss said, glancing at the time. Peeta had left for his interview several hours ago.  It was clearly at an end if the Commandante was making his presence know to the citizens of Le Cap.  “Rue, dearest, instruct Lavinia to prepare the midday meal.  We will have it on the veranda. I am quite certain the Capitaine will be home very soon.”

 

“Yes, mistress,” Rue said, slipping away like a trembling dove.  Katniss stared after her as she left the room.  She cast an inquisitive glance at Johanna.

 

“What will I do with her, Jo?  She is with child and clearly, she could not have been delayed so long by the Commandant.”

 

“No, and I fear that if she and Thresh are discovered, Monsieur Crane will not be gentle with the young man.”

 

Katniss was pensive, hoping not to have to address the matter until after her honeymoon but saw that she could no longer avoid it. “I will discuss with Peeta the possibility of buying him from Monsieur Crane.”

 

Johanna’s eyes widened briefly at her mistress’s words.  “You would speak to Crane?  Approach him on this matter directly?”

 

Katniss paced the veranda, considering all the implications. “Do I have a choice?   I cannot sell Rue to him in her condition - she was dreadfully abused when we bought her. Why would he have cause to treat her any differently?”

 

“But it will be costly to you, particularly if Crane comes to understand that there are personal interests behind the purchase.  Thresh is already a prized slave - if Crane realizes that you have any other intention but a business transaction, he will triple the price to you.  And given your peculiar history…”

 

“He will take pleasure in trying to take every penny he can from me,” Katniss sighed.  “I will have to persuade the Capitaine to make the proposal.”

 

Johanna nodded. “This may be possible.  Perhaps dealing with a man of authority might temper his wickedness.”

 

“Perhaps any other man would. But I doubt his wounded pride has recovered from the rebuke he received at Peeta’s hand in Lauriers.  I will try, for Rue’s sake…” Katniss  paused.  She could not very well tell her friend that she had secretly blessed the union between Rue and Thresh and felt complicit in their affections and therefore obligated to protect the young couple. Johanna would brand her as a madwoman, or worse, a sentimentalist.  “But we must prepare for the very real possibility that Crane will take this opportunity to mortify me, as he has done on every possible occasion in the past.”

 

“I suspect the first order of business is to understand what is in Rue’s heart, what she desires.  If not, all of this conversation is for naught,” Johanna said.

 

Katniss nodded and watched as Johanna left the room. She returned several minutes later, carrying a tray with various plates.  Rue hurried ahead to the heart of the veranda, laying out the cloth that would cover the table and deftly setting the silverware and plates in their proper arrangements. Katniss helped unload the food items - greens with sliced avocado, grilled cod fish on a bed of boiled cassava in a creme fraiche sauce, sweet peas seasoned with lemon and oil and well-made French bread.  As Rue withdrew from the table, Katniss captured her by her slender, brown wrist.  

 

“Won’t you eat with us?” Katniss asked, indicating a chair and setting a place for Rue.

 

“Of course, m’lady,” Rue answered, her nerves causing her to quiver. Johanna cast her an inquisitive look, causing her to drop her eyes. Rue sat down, her small, bird-like hands fluttering in her lap.

 

Katniss leaned across the table to fetch the first dish, indicating that they should begin. The three ladies served themselves in tense silence, Rue’s eyes flitting toward her mistress and her friend as she first nibbled, then ate her lunch in earnest.  Katniss smiled, pushing more fish in the direction of her small friend.

 

“No, I’m quite full…” Rue demurred, though the young woman stared with barely disguised longing at the grilled meat.

 

“Nonsense,” Katniss said gently.  “In your condition, you must eat.  Your child demands it.”

 

Rue gently pulled the fish towards her as Johanna heaped avocado, salad, peas and cassava onto her plate.  The relish with which she ate brought a smile to Katniss’s face.  When Rue had first arrived, Johanna shared with Katniss how she had been given a leg of chicken for dinner.  Rue had simply stared at it for a full minute. Johanna, lacking in all the manners of her mistress, recounted snapping impatiently at the girl.  “What is it then?”

 

“I’m sorry, Mademoiselle but is this all for me?”  she had asked pitifully.  It had become clear, according to Johanna, that the young lady had not had more than a piece of meat to call her own when owned by Crane, and promptly inspired a great compassion in that fierce woman’s heart.  So Johanna took care that her friend ate as much as possible.

 

After they had dined, Katniss searched Johanna for a clue as to how they should approach the delicate subject of Rue but her friend merely sat back, arms crossed, inscrutable as the marble statues of angels that adorned the far corners of the veranda.  As if sensing that she was the center of her mistress’s preoccupations, Rue turned her large brown eyes to Katniss.

 

“Rue,” Katniss began. “I believe there is...sympathy...between women.  Regardless of the station society assigns to us, we are afflicted by the same travails.  It is only with your very best interests that I place the question at your feet, for I feel I must make a decision regarding your condition. Do you understand me?”

 

Rue nodded, suddenly serene.  “I do.”

 

Katniss released a nervous breath in relief.  “I am proposing to buy Thresh from Monsieur Crane.  I cannot be certain that the proposition will be successful but I fear...I fear that if you and Thresh are caught, we will have no recourse against the law.  Monsieur Crane will pursue it to the fullest, for he is cruel and unfeeling and does not desire the happiness of any creature.”

 

Rue appeared pinned to her seat by the shock so evident in her face.  Quickly recovering herself and, with supreme effort, she spoke as steadily as she could.  “You would consider purchasing Thresh?  For my sake?  Why?”

 

Katniss opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it. How to explain?  There was no logical rationale for her desires - they were of no practical advantage to her, her husband or her household. In fact, to care so much, to be so preoccupied by the well-being of a slave, was beyond the pale of normality and were Katniss to speak it out loud to anyone but Johanna, who saw most matters as she did, she would be hard pressed to explain why she should go through the trouble or expense of taking these steps.

 

But she couldn’t bear it. She thought of herself separated from Peeta, by some law, or decree that arbitrarily divide two people who were so complimentary in temperament and so much in love, simply because of their position in society or the color of their skin. Everything in her spirit rebelled against it. She saw a flash of her vision, of the fires that separated her from her Capitaine and she tasted a desperation that wound its serpentine path about her heart and suffocated it.

 

She felt herself burn suddenly with something that was not unfamiliar to her but was more powerful than she’d ever felt before - injustice. She raged against the unfairness of Rue’s predicament, and by extension, the predicament of so many on her island. She finally began to understand Finnick and Annie’s refusal to keep a slave, why there was growing discontent among those she knew, like Mother Seeder and even Johanna herself even.  Her own troubles had, until now, insulated her from the direness of the condition of others but now she emerged from the fog of her own self-absorption to see clearly what others had long known.

 

It was not a question of slaves and laws. It was a question of love and humanity. And Katniss could not deny this to this lovely girl, who treated her as if she were made of porcelain, and loved her as one loved a goddess.  

 

“Because it is the only right thing to do in the midst of so many wrongs,” Katniss whispered.  Johanna cast a quizzical, almost comical glance at her but Katniss ignored her. It was enough. That explanation would have to do.

 

Rue understood, being the victim of so many of those wrongs, and nodded, dropping her eyes to her folded hands.  “I...I do not know what I should say…”

 

Katniss took Rue’s hands in hers and tried to capture her downcast attention. “Tell me that this is your desire.  Say, once and for all, that you truly love this man and you want him together with you and your child and I will do everything in my power to make it come to pass for you.  It is important, however,” Katniss paused, searching for the words to go further. “ If this is only...caprice, I’ll never bring the matter to you again…”

 

“Caprice…?”  Rue asked.

 

“If you are merely having your sport with the young man…” Johanna said, as delicately as her nature allowed.

 

Rue dropped her eyes and shook her head vigorously. Katniss soon felt the drops of tears on the back of her hand that was folded over Rue’s.  The girl tried to speak but choked on the words instead and her response came in the convulsions of her shoulders, and the sobbing that wracked her body.  

 

“I believed...all was without hope…” she hiccuped.  “We would only have these stolen moments...and no more.”

 

“Have you told him you are with child?” Johanna asked.

 

Rue visibly slumped.  “I did not have to.  He saw me today with his very own eyes.  What is it like for a man to know that he has a child growing in a woman and will never be able to claim it as his own?”

 

The pain and desolation in Rue’s question was a wound to Katniss’s heart. Indeed, without Katniss’s intervention, there would be no way for Thresh and Rue to be close to each other except for those secret rendevous that risked exposing them and earning a stern punishment by the law.  It made her more determined than ever to overcome the obstacle of Monsieur Crane and the price of Thresh’s purchase to bring about this small act of justice.  Katniss was bound by her conscience and the common roots she shared with Rue to act on her behalf.

 

Johanna leaned forward, moved also by her young friend’s agony.  “There is hope. But it will not be easy.  Capitaine Mellark must be persuaded to present the offer. Then we must pray that Monsieur Crane is not so attached to your man that he will not bear to part with him. Thresh has a position of trust that may make him difficult to replace.”  Johanna passed Rue a handkerchief, watching as her friend delicately blotted her eyes.  “There are obstacles, you understand?”

 

Rue nodded, clearing the tears from her face. Without warning, she clasped Katniss’s hand in her own and pressed her lips to the soft skin.

 

“Thank you, Madame. Thank you. I will never have the means to repay you except with my loyalty and service.”

 

Katniss, overwhelmed with tenderness for the girl, took her in her arms and held her.  “Be happy, Rue. And take care of your child.”  She was so small, so delicate and yet she had to bear up so much under the unnecessary construct of her position.  Katniss was sure, on the strength of her observation of the young couple, that Thresh would likely marry Rue if given the opportunity, so great was the devotion she had seen on his face.  

 

The ladies cleaned the meal in silence, each lost in her own thoughts. When Johanna left with Rue, Katniss allowed her thoughts free reign as she wandered the garden aimlessly, her mind laboring furiously.  Katniss considered selling several pieces of jewelry that would be inappropriate for her to wear as a married woman, yet were still of significant value.  She had the means - all depended on Monsieur Crane’s disposition and she was at a loss to predict his response.

 

Katniss finally heard the hooves outside and the sound of the stable door opening. Her heart leapt, first in happiness, than in trepidation.  Her mind was a dizzying confusion of schemes.  She had to take care of how to unburden herself to her Capitaine or all her good intentions could come to nothing.

 

Meanwhile, a glance at the sky revealed a swarm of clouds, turbulent and grey. It was a sudden premonition of unfavorable weather and Katniss rushed outside, thankful that Peeta had only narrowly avoided the tempest.  The terror of earlier returned briefly to her heart and she hoped most fervently that he would always be so fortunate to escape calamity, of which there was so much on this island. For she feared her heart would not survive if some evil were ever to befall him.

 

**XXXXX**

 

**So many thanks to[akai-echo](akai-echo.tumblr.com), her pre-reading and her friendship, to [chele20035](chele20035.tumblr.com) for pre-reading and being an all-around cheerleader and to [lvfics ](lvfics.tumblr.com)(lavender-vanilla), who gave me excellent feedback and was frank about what worked and what did not in this chapter.  If it is worth reading, it is because of her hard work.**

 

**Brutus Oge’ is actually a stand-in for the historical figure, Jacques Vincent Ogé, who was instrumental in events leading up to the Revolution.  I won’t give too much away because I weave his actions into this narrative, which sets off the beginnings of war, but his arrival changes the entire narrative.**

 

**As for Rue and Thresh, the Code Noir or Black Code of Law stated that slaves could not fraternize with other slaves without the permission of their respective slave owners. While many slave owners in the city did not care, Crane, being who he is, would never grant such rights.  If caught, Thresh and Rue, Crane would demand certain punishment, including a flogging and time spent in prison, before being released to the justice of their owners.  It would not matter that Rue was pregnant - the paternity of a slave was never recognized and she would not escape the law.  Their situation is dire and Katniss acts under the knowledge.**

 

 **I am running the[Love in Panem](loveinpanem.tumblr.com)** **_Valentine’s Day Challenge_ ** **so check out the tumblr page on the weekend of Valentine’s Day and check out the stories! I hope to update my fic,** **_The Sharp Edge of Memory_ ** **before then but I am also co-writing a Star Wars/The Hunger Games crossover called** **_Heretics_ ** **with stacylk so it will have to depend on the time available whether I can get both finalized within the time allotted. I’ve also ventured into original fiction (short stories and poetry for now) so my updates might slow down a bit but I am committed to writing my fics. I still have some fanfiction left in me!  Thank you for your patience!**


	9. To Fall Into Her Eyes

 

**_Where does the fire which takes hold of my soul_ **

**_Of the part of me who's drunk, come from_ **

**_suddenly, only for a glimpse,_ **

**_I want to live at the edge of the void_ **

**_I want to live at the edge of the void_ **

 

**_To fall into her eyes_ **

**_To fall, surrender to desire_ **

**_Which is catching fire_ **

**_To dance, dance in her eyes_ **

**_To dance_ **

**_I want to sway to the sound of rapture_ **

 

**_from - Tomber dans ses yeux (To Fall Into Her Eyes), 1789, Les Amants de la Bastille, translated by thegirlfromoverthepond_ **

 

**_This chapter is dedicated to my friend, Loving-Mellark, who had a birthday and is always such an enthusiastic supporter of this story._ **

 

**XXXXX**

_**August, 1790** _

 

**Peeta**

When Peeta finally quieted his worries, he raced home to Katniss, impatient to not lose another moment of time fretting over his interview with Snow.  It was with relief that he saw their home rise up before him as the sound of the crashing sea filled his ears, melting his anxieties away.  He heard the music of the seagulls in the distance and had barely waited for his horse to come to a stop before he leapt off to quickly tend to him so he could return to his wife.

As he brushed down the horse’s white coat, he took in the musky smell of the sweating animal mingled with the humid fragrance of flowers, sea salt and the threat of a summer storm.  The door of the kitchen creaked open, the sound cutting across the yard with a squaw of impatience.  When he glanced over, he saw the very object of his constant meditations appear before his eyes.  Tossing aside the brush that he’d been using, he tore the riding gloves from his hands and strode to where Katniss leaned against the doorway.  She wore a half-smile that belied a reserved expression of her inner joy, betrayed in its intensity by the brightness in her eyes.  All of Peeta’s worries became like the tiny buzzing of insect wings which he swatted away with one look at his wife.

“I’ve tarried overlong,” he said, pausing before her and devouring her with his eyes.

“It will always be too long when you are away, _mèt mwen_ ,” she said sweetly, the hint of teasing reaching him from her carefully couched words.

“But I am here now, _metrès mwen_. What will you do with me?” he asked, leaning ever closer to her until their noses barely touched.

Katniss stretched up on her toes, closing the remaining distance between them. “I would hide you away and keep you where no harm can come to you,” she answered before pressing her lips against his.  Peeta wound his arms about her waist and pulled her against him. He lost all his careful meditations of Ogre’ and Snow, of slave uprisings and political intrigue. He ceased to think altogether, the grinding wheels of his thoughts coming to a screeching halt. It was magic, pure and simple, that she used to weaken him and make him hers. And he was conquered by her, the most willing surrender that any battlefield had ever witnessed.

She pulled back and began to ask something that had to do with food or drink but Peeta was done with such trivial preoccupations. He scooped her up in his arms and strode through the kitchen, to the wide-eyed shock of Lavinia and Rue, who were laboring over a table covered with vegetables. He carried her across the veranda, with its giant, swaying leaves, waxy and shining, almost dewey in the heat. They swept past the simple decorations, the delicately woven muslin curtains, up heavy steps and closed doors until Peeta set her down in the middle of their bedroom and captured her face between his hands. She smelled faintly of cilantro and when he kissed her, he tasted citrus - orange or perhaps the lemon she squeezed in her water.  

Lost in his desire for her, he did not feel at first her gentle pulling away. But when he reached for her bodice to untangle the ribbons that stubbornly resisted his fingers, the tender skin of her small hands rested gently against his and stilled his movements.

“Peeta, I know you are eager,” she said breathlessly as his lips lay in wait on her neck.  He stiffened, his hardness pressed impatiently against her belly. His body screamed in agony as she stepped out of his arms, capturing his gaze with her own, filled with unmistakable desire and longing.  “But first, there is a matter that I must bring to your attention.”

Peeta frowned as she led him to the small settee in the corner of the room, before which stood a simple, but tasteful table upon which rested a handful of books she kept on hand when she felt restless in the evening.  She took her place, shifting so that he would fit in the space next to her.  He commanded himself to be calm, to ignore the delicate way she smoothed back the raven hair held by a piece of silk ribbon, or the way her skin glowed even in the dim light of a stormy afternoon. He would ignore her bosom, trapped and crowded by her bodice, the swells peeking desperately up over the lace border, beckoning sweetly for his lips. He cleared his mind, focused on her face and begged himself to think only of her words.

 

“I require your assistance,” she began haltingly and he watched as she struggled with her thoughts. Her hands trembled and her breath came in short bursts that spoke of nervousness and uncertainty. He rarely saw her so perturbed, and suddenly felt himself sober before her.  

 

“What troubles you, Katniss?” he asked, taking her hands in his.  

 

He watched her unease before she quieted, taking  a deep breath, perhaps to fortify your resolve.  “Our Rue is with child.”

 

Peeta furrowed his eyebrows but said nothing, employing the skills he had learned as a Captain to quell his reactions and commit himself completely to listening to Katniss.  However, he squeezed her hand gently, encouraging her to continue.

 

“The father is a slave who belongs to Monsieur Crane, her former Master.  I...I wish to purchase this young man from him.”  

 

Peeta considered her request, waiting for further explanations but none were forthcoming.  “I am confused, _mon coeur_.  Are we in need of another servant?”

 

Katniss’s eyes widened and she suddenly raised her chin, almost in defiance, a movement that distracted him in it’s ability to cause his blood catch fire again but he quelled the instinct. This was clearly an important matter, one that she felt the need to bring to his attention at this very instant.  “Peeta, he is the father of Rue’s child. Is that not reason enough?”

 

Peeta stared at her, uncomprehendingly. “You know I defer to you on all matters of our home. But,” he paused, a murky sense of being lost in brackish waters suddenly overwhelming him, making him questions the very words he uttered,  “Slaves have children all the time, dearest.  You will have acquired another slave almost by default. There is, in all practicality, no need for another slave.”

 

Katniss’s face became flushed with color and, if Peeta did not know any better, he would be almost sure he had angered her in some way.  This was confirmed when she sprang to her feet and paced before him, her hands balled into white-knuckled fists at her side.  “I see, _Mon Capitaine_ , that you do not understand the necessity of this purchase on purely moral grounds.  Thresh is the _father_ of Rue’s child. I wish to purchase the young man so that they may be together. Is it possible that you cannot see the imperative of rectifying their egregious situation?”

 

“Katniss,” he said patiently, standing to calm her pacing.  “According to the law, Rue and Thresh should not be consorting without the permission of their masters. If the consequences of lawlessness is a child, that is not ours to rectify, is it?”

 

Katniss froze and stared directly into his eyes, the tempest, like the one building outside of their balcony, reflected in the rage of her turbulent grey eyes.  “And what do you say, _Capitaine_ , if I tell you that the law is wrong?  That keeping two people apart, for the mere misfortune of their birth, is a wrong greater than any law that may be broken?”

 

“We cannot pick and choose which laws we wish to obey and which ones we shall discard.  It would only lead to chaos in our society,” Peeta responded, recalling his own thoughts of earlier, the ones provoked by his conversation with Commandante Snow, and felt his certainty falter.  

 

Katniss tilted her head, perhaps perceiving his ambivalence, in that strange way that she had of knowing his mind and sentiments before he knew them himself. “You, of all people, should understand the importance of obeying your conscience, though your decisions risk the censure of society.” She stepped closer to him, until she within a hairsbreadth of his face.  “There is a morality, greater than the laws of conquerors; laws which can be, and often are, wrong.”

 

Peeta furrowed his brow, observing the earnestness of his bride, the rationality which with she spoke, and felt himself crumble beneath it. It was not simply because of her extraordinary beauty, or the esteem to which he held her, the esteem that a warrior feels when he observes those same qualities of valor and honor in another.  In the midst of his doubts, he had also lately perceived that there was society and then there was justice and one did not always promote the other.  

 

“I assume I will be the one to bring the proposal to him?” Peeta said, smiling at Katniss as the hint of his acquiescence was enough to cool her anger.

 

Katniss turned away from him, walking toward the double doors of the balcony and closing them against the storm that sent sprays of water droplets inside.  She leaned her forehead against the wood as she spoke.  “You must, husband.  These are matters...best left to men,” she said quietly but something in her tone piqued his interest and caused him to approach her where she stood, still resting against the door.  He felt dread build in his stomach and crawl its way up to his heart, where the beats seemed to freeze in his chest. “I would be so very grateful to you.”

 

Peeta stared at her tense back.  “Katniss, is there more?” Her lack of response chilled him, and a vague nausea rose up in his throat.  He had promised himself he would not allow jealousy to consume him, that he would be understanding with every intimation of her past.  In many ways, they were similar, for did he not also sell his expertise to his Commandante and to his country?  Yet even with all his calm rationalizations, he had underestimated the primitive and brutal force with which it seized him now.

 

“On the hills of Lauriers, I could not help but notice the way he looked at you,” he whispered.  “Was he...was he one of your special friends?”

 

She raised her head heavily and turned to look at him. The pain he saw there shocked him.  Thunder exploded outside of their bedroom and though he flinched, it had no effect on her.  She held his gaze unflinchingly and he was sure he could see to the very bottom of her tormented soul.

 

“Katniss?” he asked, approaching her slowly as if she were a filly ready to bolt.

 

"I found her that night, long after she had taken her fill of poison," Katniss whispered in response.

 

“Your mother?” he asked.

 

Katniss nodded.  

 

"I came to know later that she had only just discovered her estate was to be liquidated by order of the Magistrate for non-payment of debt,” she said in a voice that reminded Peeta of the voice of the Quartermaster of the ship upon which he had traveled to arrive at Saint Domingue so many years ago, reciting the contents of the shipments to the Supercargo with inhuman detachment.  However, he perceived that the pain of her youth still travailed her beneath the exterior of powerfully controlled competence.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

 

“My father,” she continued, made rigid by the demands of telling her harrowing tale without succumbing to hysterics or tears, “When he died, he left the estate in all benevolence and faith to my mother and his ‘trusted’ executor, Monsieur Seneca Crane.  Even then, Capitaine,” she said bitterly.  “My father was one of the wealthiest merchants of Le Cap and did much business with Monsieur Crane’s estate.”

 

Peeta pressed his lips together, waiting for her to continue.

 

“He visited often with my mother. Madame Trinkett, my guardian, explained that his stewardship had been questionable at best, until my mother found herself close to destitution. Never a woman of great fortitude, she arrived in desperate straights. A mulatta widow with a mulatta daughter! Society would not hesitate to cast us both out and let us wallow in poverty or worse.  Even her best friends and associates among the _petit blancs_ had no use for a widow with dwindling means.  Except Monsieur Crane, who had already put a good portion of her estate to ‘good use’ and would not hesitate to do the same to her, or to me!” Katniss said with vehemence, pacing in anger. “She did not have my father’s strength of character, Peeta. She had had the virtue and misfortune of marrying for love and now, nothing could induce her to marry for convenience, in particular to a man of such debased reputation.”

 

Peeta nodded, watching the flashes of lightning bathe Katniss’s skin as she paced before the balcony, the sound of the thrashing sea just below. “Monsieur Crane likely manipulated the balance of the estate to make it appear squandered, then propositioned your mother to marry him to save her from destitution,” he said in conclusion.

 

Katniss nodded, turning towards him and his heart bound like his white war horse against his chest.  She was magnificent in every way. He did not care for the petty superstitions of this island but deep in his heart, he knew it was more than heat or lust that moved him when he saw her. In the depth of night, when his body ached for her, even after they were sated from having each other, he felt a supernatural force flood his limbs, stiffen his cock and seize control of his mind with the single objective of having her again.  It would kill him, this Loa. Perhaps it was even Legba himself, who was known to toy with his victims, dangling their every desire in front of them before yanking them away.  Even so, with all his superiority, his rationality and secular convictions, he could do no less than give himself over to that black magic every single time he was possessed by it.

 

Swallowing hard to rid himself of the fever that was rising in his body and in deference to Katniss’ confidence in sharing her story with him, he whispered, “I am sorry, _ma perle_. Neither you nor your mother deserved such a fate.”

 

“You asked if he was one of my special friends. He visited me once,” she said, causing Peeta to become immobile, like one of the statues on _les Avenues des Saints_. “Monsieur Crane - after the death of my mother, he came to me, offering a large sum of money for my company. The man who would become my father had sought me out and negotiated a king’s ransom with Johanna to have me,” she said bitterly before turning her face to the night air.

 

Peeta had been adamant that she not tell him of her past, insisting that he must not know of her lovers and friends. He had no interest whatsoever in the men she had brought to her bed, what pleasures they had had, nor did he care a whit for what they had paid to have her.  She had done it out of necessity but the necessity was gone now. She was his wife and was afforded all the protections under the law so that she would never return to that condition again. But her candor took him unawares, a boiling jealousy rising to consume him from the inside out.

 

“This is why he looked at you on Lauriers, as if he would hurt both hurt you and have you at once.”  Peeta said angrily, rising also from their bed, running his hands through his hair and tugging hard to contain the hideous rage that blazed within him.

 

“I refused him,” Katniss said quietly, approaching him from behind and placing her hands on his shoulders.  “I refused him and he hates me even now for it. He came repeatedly afterwards, at one time even accosting me on the avenue, attempting to take by force what I would not sell to him.  But I could not bear it.  There was not enough gold in all of the world to induce me to go with him. He is a murderer and a thief and I hold him responsible, before the eyes of God and men, for the death of my mother. And I have sworn and will swear again that one day, I will have my vengeance on him!”

 

Peeta took a deep breath, turning to take her into his arms, the contact confabulating the flames of jealousy and hatred that her confession had already set ablaze with him.  “And I vow, as I have vowed my heart and my life to you, to take on the debt of vengeance against this man. You have the use of my sword, on my word as a gentleman, to command as you wish.”

 

“You are a Captain!” Katniss exclaimed. “You cannot!”

 

“My loyalty is first and foremost to you. King, my country, even God himself, cannot contravene my allegiance to you,” he said with a ferocity that could not be questioned. He was pleased to see Katniss visibly trembled at his vehemence and watched as the Loa descend on her, darkening her eyes, sending her magic through her blood and setting her ablaze for him as he burned for her.

 

He grasped her arms and pulled her towards him. “But I will not tolerate the name of any man in connection to your bed.”

 

“I never took him to my bed!”  Katniss protested.  “We must speak of these things for they are life and death for us.  Do you understand?  He is evil and knows only destruction.”

 

Peeta felt the blood rush through his veins, pounding through his body, fueled by the blackest rage he had ever felt in his life.

 

“He still wants you.  I saw it when he looked at you.” He thought of Cato’s sword, drenched in poison and the accusation he launched against him when Cato died by his own deception. “He would have you at any cost.”

 

“I am no longer free to be taken,” Katniss answered. But Peeta felt something unravel like a rattlesnake in his heart, a powerful feeling that gripped him and grew until every other thought, both rational and mad, was pushed out of his mind.

 

“He will not have you!” He pulled her suddenly towards him and kissed her. Katniss gasped beneath the insistence of his lips. He was a man possessed as he took her back to their bed, pushing her down onto it and crawling over her. He pinned her mouth with his own as his strong fingers sought to unravel the ties that kept her from him and, finding himself unable to do so, pulled her dress up over her hips. Her legs fell open as his fingers sought her center and, finding it wet and waiting, cupped his hand over it.  

 

“If I could rip from your memory the name of every man who ever passed an eye or hand over you, I would do it and trade half my soul with the Devil himself for the privilege!  But I do not have this power. I will destroy him, not only for the injury to you and your family, which is grave, but because he still desires you and conspires to have you.   I will not tolerate the affront.”  He shook his head, his rage against Crane overwhelming him.  He fumbled with his britches, cursing the buttons and ties that separated him from her, until he tore the materials with the force of his jealousy.  “I will destroy him.”

 

“ _Wi, met mwen’_ ,” she whispered with a gleam in her eye and he understood the irony of Katniss calling him _master_ , when it was he who was completely under her thrall.  He plunged into her, her eyes widening from the shock of his entry before she tensed around him, imprisoning him with her powerful muscles.

 

“You are mine now. You have said it yourself. _Tu es moi!_ ” he said as he rode her hard, his hips crashing into hers, his body demanding dominance. It was foolish of him. No one could truly possess such a woman. She was a bird and her devotion had to be coaxed from her with finesse and sweet offerings. But his jealousy was so absolute, he could have crushed her from his desire had reason still not held some sway. She moaned from his assault as she pulled his coat off of him, running her hands under his shirt so that her nails left long, jagged scratches along his back. The retelling of her tale had provoked her rage also and she responded as befitted a creature of fire, with a fury equal to his own, hissing like a cobra, all beauty and death.  He felt her rising, her body clenching around him tighter and tighter as he swallowed her cries with his lips.

 

“These are mine too,” he said as she shouted his name, their bodies heaving with sweat and exertion.  “Every sound, every sigh, every cry, _ma perle_ , they are mine and you will forget all the rest!”

 

Katniss stared at him with her bottomless silver eyes narrowed to slits. She gripped his hair and pulled hard, the pain lancing through his scalp. But the pain only spurred him on until he was spilling inside of her, propelled not by love, but by the blackest jealousy he had ever known.   

 

**XXXXX**

 

After a stretch of time, in which Katniss and Peeta lie in their respective thoughts, mindful of the turmoil of the other’s mind, Katniss lifted her head.  “Is my husband still angry?”

 

Peeta pinched the bridge of his nose, overwhelmed with guilt and shame that he had allowed jealousy to force him to take leave of his senses.  He glanced down at her inscrutable face, though he was comforted by the touch of her soft fingers threading their way through the blond curls of his chest.  “I was never angry with you. Forgive me, Katniss. I shouldn’t have... Perhaps it is true what Finnick says.”

 

“What does your friend say?” she asked benignly but there was an undercurrent in her voice that spoke to him of open wounds which made him uneasy.

 

“He says there are spirits that possess us and do not release us until they are satisfied that their existence has been honored. I have no other explanation for the raptus that overtook me.  I am sorry.”

 

Katniss continued to toy with his curls,  damp from his exertion and the humidity that continued to build from the storm.

 

“It is only...”  Peeta jaw clenched but he swallowed the revulsion and jealousy that rose spontaneously within him.  He gripped her to his chest and spoke into her hair. “I must have you only for myself. It is an illness of the soul, I know this, but I cannot bear the thought of any other man, even if I know...I know…”

 

“You have always been so considerate with me, even gallant - I think when the Buccaneer insulted me, how you thrashed him with your sword!  You have demonstrated your patience and tolerance towards me and my past in every possible way. I have no complaints…” Katniss said, pressing her cheek against his broad chest. “You are only human.”

 

“Than if this is so, forgive my weakness and I will learn to tame this wickedness within me,” he pulled back, running his thumbs over her cheeks. “You must not censor yourself. You have never been less than forthcoming, you’ve never trifled with me and you have been sincere in all things. I will be worthy of you, I promise you, _metres mwen_ , my mistress. You are the master of all that I am, all that I possess and I will be the husband you deserve.”

 

“You are!” she cried out, rising from her place on his chest to kiss him until he thought he would faint from want of air. “You are more than anyone deserves,” she murmured before she pulled him towards her and kissed him again, this time more gently.  Her tenderness rent him in pieces, so that all of the shreds of him she now cradled in her hand.  He was at her mercy in every way.

 

Catching her face in his hands, he caressed her gently as he gazed with nothing short of adoration into her eyes, the eyes that were responsible for this escapade, eyes that he saw even in his dreams, whether he was by her side or a thousand miles away.  

 

“I love you, Katniss,” he whispered with all the sincerity in his heart. He was astonished to see her gasp, as if it were the first time he were confessing himself to her. Each time, it was as if his love were a surprise to her, something she did not expect and, as such, she never took it for granted. If he were ever cruel to her, he would deserve only the worst pain.

 

“And I love you, Peeta,” she smiled, clutching him to her again.  As the fragrance of her skin rose up to engulf him again, Peeta thought there could be no greater happiness than the one he felt at that moment, holding the only woman he knew he would ever love.

 

**XXXXX**

 

**Katniss**

 

True to his word, Peeta drew up the offer for the purchase for the slave the very next day with his attorney.  When he left their home, she, Johanna and Rue were in a state of nerves as they awaited the outcome of his endeavor.  

 

Finnick had agreed to accompany him to his appointment, so that Annie brought the children to play along the small sliver of beach at the foot of the cliffs above which stood Katniss and Peeta’s home. Katniss was grateful for the distraction provided by the little ones, who collected seashells and splashed along the edge of the warm water.  For entire stretches of minutes, they were able to distract her from her waiting, though Peeta’s interview with Crane would suddenly crash into her thoughts like waves breaking on rocks, without warning or provocation, and unsettle her nerves again.

 

“Do not fret, Katniss,” Annie said sweetly. “Peeta is very respected among the landowners, and Finnick can be very persuasive. Sadly, these men trade slaves the way one would loan out a pair of slippers.  If there is a possibility of profit, Crane may be persuaded to be amenable.”

 

“Perhaps,” Katniss said, tossing a small ball to the bronze-haired Tristan, while Maggie dug a hole in the sand, pouring cups of sea water into a ditch that drained as quickly as it was filled, bringing the little girl to the edge of frustration. Try as she might, Katniss could not ignore the growing sense of foreboding she carried in the pit of her stomach.  

 

“So, has Peeta told you about the ball?” Annie asked.  

 

“Sorry?” Katniss asked, pulling her obsessive thoughts away from Peeta and towards her gentle friend.  “Which ball?”

 

“Yesterday, some of the officers received invitations for the ball to receive Minister Brutus Oge’, who arrives from Paris in a few short weeks.  It is quite the distinction! Peeta received an invitation also.  It promises to be the event of the year.” Annie said.

 

Katniss searched her mind for any familiarity with the name but came up empty. “I am afraid we were engaged with other preoccupations. Do tell, Annie, why is he important?”

 

Annie skipped towards her, leaving the children to plunder the sand for its various real and imagined treasures.

 

“He is a great proponent of emancipation. He will arrive in Le Cap, stay for the opening of the social season and then travel to Port au Prince to deliver a very important speech before the Western Island’s Assemblee.  It is rumored to be an extravagant affair, for he seeks political support for his efforts to grant equal legal status to freeborn blacks on the island.”

 

“Equal status?” Katniss asked. The social stratification on the island was complex, given the multiple iterations of race.  There were plantation slaves, of course, who occupied the very lowest and least considered of all the social classes, with no rights whatsoever, though there was a Code Noir that should, in theory, outline the protections afforded to them. These laws, however, were routinely violated and only the punitive aspects were consistently upheld.  

 

Above plantation slaves were freedmen or _affranchis_ who were mostly descended from unions of slave owners and slaves or whites and mulattos/quadroons. This was the class Katniss and her family belonged to and it was why marriage to her would have diminished Peeta had he been a man of any other social standing.  Some mulatto freedmen inherited land, became relatively wealthy, and owned slaves, like her father. Nevertheless, racial codes kept the _affranchis_ socially and politically inferior to the whites. Also between the white elite and the slaves were the poor whites ( _petits blancs_ ), who considered themselves socially superior to the mulattos, even if they sometimes found themselves economically inferior to them.

 

This social order was all that Katniss knew. It was the social order Peeta was tasked with upholding. While she knew emancipationists (Finnick was very public with his sentiments), her own concerns were always for the individual, and never believed in the unmalleability of public institutions. However, since the political turmoil in France, she now realized anything was possible and wondered at the consequences if everything collapsed.

 

“Does his presence not...frighten you?” Katniss asked suddenly.  “He proposes...chaos.”

 

“He proposes justice and equality. Finnick is besides himself with excitement.  He may persuade the Assemble to enact the measures already in effect in France.  Men like my father will have all the same rights. And it will be only a matter of time until those same rights will be conferred onto slaves and we will finally live in a just society.”

 

“How I envy your conviction!” Katniss said suddenly, opening her parasol now that the sun had risen close to its zenith.  She felt her heart flutter, a combination of her anxiety for Peeta, worry over Rue, who only now, descended the wooden stairs that lead from their home to the beachfront. As Rue came near, she noticed the envelope in her hand and gratefully walked away from Annie’s conversation to address the matter of her correspondence.

 

“Madame, a courier brought this,” she said, focusing very hard on the envelope but Katniss saw the fear radiate from the girl. It had been hours. Why hadn’t the men returned?

 

Katniss took the envelope and slim pen knife from her hands and slipped it beneath the flap. The clean sound it made as it cut the paper was somehow calming to Katniss, despite her wonder at the note inside.

 

“Well!” Katniss blurted out loudly.

 

“What is it, then?” Annie asked, watching Katniss react to the missive.

 

“I’ve been invited to tea!” she laughed almost maniacally. “by Madame Flickerman!”

 

Annie’s eyes widened. “Madame Flickerman!  Oh, that will be quite interesting.  Her husband has been recently appointed to the position of Chief Financier by Mayordomo Heavensbee. She is very shrewd in the matter of politics, having already made herself influential while her husband was still a minister of the Treasury.”  Annie’s brown eyes twinkled mischievously and Katniss wondered how she ever thought her timid. Her friend’s demeanor was gentle but she was not to be underestimated. In her quiet way, she managed to know things that Katniss, until now, had been too oblivious and uninterested pay any attention to.

 

“Madame O’dair, you frighten me with your astute attention to detail.  You are worse than Johanna! How do you know such things?” Katniss teased.

 

Annie laughed, defty admiring a seashell little Luke had managed to find before returning her attention to Katniss. “My husband visits all the great houses when he is not tending the wounds of his comrades. He listens. He has told me he often that the greatest compensation of his service to the powerful is not the gold, though they are quite generous and we want for nothing.  No, his real payment are the secrets they share with him.  Some are accidental, but some…” she smiled, “Like Monsieur Heavensbee himself, cannot help but take him into their confidences and unburden themselves with him, thinking him completely benign.”

 

“Only arrogance allows them to be so free,” Katniss said moodily.

 

“Indeed, Katniss. You will find that their arrogance is their undoing. They think Finnick is just a poor military doctor with no purpose but to serve them.  But they are wrong!” she answered and Katniss admired greatly the fire that her friend’s sweet demeanor concealed. “Their slaves, their servants - they treat all as inconsequential and do not guard their greatest secrets from being pillaged.  When the time comes, they will find that arrogance turned against them.”

 

“The time for what…?” Katniss asked but any further conversation was cut short when the very object of their discourse appeared on the steps leading to the beach.  Finnick waved and, upon sight of their father, the children raced with shouts of joy to greet him.  They accosted him the moment he stepped off the stairs, covering his fine pants with the prints of so many hands, arms and knees smeared with sand.  However, if Finnick noticed, he did not care as he picked up each child in turn and kissed them in greeting.

 

Behind him, Peeta followed, his uniform stretched fetchingly around his narrow waist and powerful thighs.  Katniss admired him fleetingly before the matter that had sent him forth returned to the forefront of her thoughts.

 

His face was unreadable and, for the upteenth time, Katniss cursed his military training, which had taught him to hide all that he thought behind a veneer of cool competence, so contrary to her own face, which exposed her, revealing her secrets to all before she knew them herself. She could act - she had done so all of her life. But she was a terrible, incompetent liar.

 

Katniss hurried over to greet him.  She should have known from the downturn of his eyes, the slight frown on his lips, the way he kissed her, gently, as if he were attempting, with that small act of kindness, to soften the blow of disappointment. She should have realized that the past could not be so easily turned aside, that Crane would seek repayment, in one way or another, for the affront of Peeta’s survival at Lauriers, and their subsequent marriage. Katniss’s very happiness was an offense that the evil man would never be able to forgive.  

 

Katniss knew all of this.  She understood the treachery of hope, how it feeds and sustains, but also blinds a person from the inevitable truth.  She rushed nonetheless to her husband with this bright hope in her chest.  As he held her, she glanced over her his shoulder at where Rue stood, leaning against the veranda above.  The wind made her dress billow behind her and outline the proud shape of her ever-growing belly.  Katniss hated herself, for having raised the hopes of that sweet girl and now, she would have to be the one to take it all away from her. She felt a fury rise in her and, not for the first time, wished she were a man who could go straight away to Monsieur Crane and give him the caning he deserved. No, it was a woman’s lot to wait, and worry, while others took action on their behalfs. Katniss was not good at waiting and knew the satisfaction of taking action, with success. She had nothing of the patience required for such a turn of events.

 

She pulled away from Peeta and learned all she needed from one glance.  Giving Finnick the customary greeting and profuse thanks for his efforts to assist her husband, she slowly took to the stairs. She would deliver the news herself to Rue. It was the very least she could do now.

 

**XXXXX**

 

**I thought it was important to review the social structure of the island, so that what was eventually proposed - and failed - in Saint Domingue before the slave revolt could be understood. The fact is that emancipation had been proposed in increments, all to the benefit of plantation holders, who did not want to lose the laborers in the field.  The colonies in the Caribbean were money-makers for the French so emancipation in France had not been extended to the Caribbean territories, leading to the situation we see in this and subsequent chapters - emancipationists who had been successful on the mainland traveling to the islands to stir the pot of revolution, many times to their own benefit, for whoever held the island of Saint Domingue held the wealth of the Caribbean and pretty much of the civilized world.**

 

**A warning about the history of upcoming chapters - I manipulate a few things to simplify the storyline. There were smaller uprisings and unrest before the Revolution and a complex series of events that came after, including personalities such as Napoleon and Toussaint who I will not address directly in the narrative.  This is not because I want to be inaccurate but because we’d be here all day if I were to follow the actual events in history. The slave revolt was a monumental event in the history of the West and therefore a culmination of complex interactions and consequences that would require a more knowledgeable hand to convey. This is, in any event, a story about two people and the far-reaching consequences of their decisions, of their loves and their losses. The history serves as an important but eventually a secondary backdrop.**

 

**Many thanks to @akai-echo, @loving-mellark, @mega-aulover and @eala-musings for prereading and for their continuous support.**


	10. The Measure of a Man

**The Measure of a Man**

 

**_How many times must a man look up_ **

**_Before he can see the sky?_ **

**_Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have_ **

**_Before he can hear people cry?_ **

**_Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows_ **

**_That too many people have died?_ **

**_The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,_ **

**_The answer is blowin' in the wind._ **

 

**from** **_Blowin’ in the Wind_ ** **by Bob Dylan**

 

**August, 1790**

 

**Peeta**

 

“Well, this is a first, “ Finnick said as he mounted his horse.  Peeta effortlessly swung onto his own and trotted next to his friend at a leisurely pace.

 

“How is that?” Peeta asked.

 

“Accompanying you to propose the purchase of a slave.  A vile bit of business,” Finnick shook his head, disrupting his almost flawless copper locks.  

 

“This is not the usual proposition, at least, as far as our intent, which I have taken great pains to explain to you,” Peeta answered.

 

“And for this reason alone do I offer my support. It is a fine thing you do for the young slaves but, if I may be so bold…”

 

Peeta dug his heels into his horse, trotting ahead to cut Finnick off as he spoke.  “You are bold a priori, my friend, and I am quite certain I can anticipate your opinion, having been exposed to it so often during our long association,” he said, half-teasing his friend, who was quite free with his opinion when given the opportunity to express it.

 

“Then you will not be put out to hear what is already familiar to you, nor shall you be mortified by its newness,” Finnick huffed as he brought his horse alongside Peeta’s.  “If you wished to do a finer thing, you would emancipate all your slaves.”

 

“They are not mine to emancipate, dear friend. They belong to Katniss…”

 

“They belong to you now,” Finnick rebutted.  

 

“I do not take liberties with my wife’s possessions. The law may say they are mine but ultimately, Katniss is their mistress.  Johanna and Rue are more than slaves to Katniss.  It was made abundantly clear upon our marriage that their care would be left entirely to my wife’s discretion.” 

 

Finnick chuckled as they made their way to the waterfront.  “You are a contradiction, my friend.”

 

Peeta looked in askance at Finnick but could not help but laugh. “How so?”

 

Swiping at the gnats that swirled around his head in the heated air, Finnick said, “You are a loyalist, upholding the will of the crown, or perhaps the Republic now,” he shook his head and Peeta knew it was because of his impatience with the unrest on the continent. “Yet you will purchase a slave for no other reason but to satisfy a vague sentimentality.  You are the sworn protector of the social order yet defy it with a marriage that would be all but frowned upon had it been undertaken by anyone less terrifying. You are one of the most intimidating figures on this savage land and yet you submit to your wife like a whipped puppy…”

 

Peeta laughed at his friend’s descriptions, for he could hardly deny any of them to be true. “No less than you, esteemed Doctor. Your leash is there for all to see.”

 

“ _ Touche _ ’,” chuckled Finnick, reaching across the space between their trotting horses to clap Peeta on the shoulder.  “But I am quite at my leisure to be my wife’s public doddard. You, on the other hand, have a responsibility to military men everywhere to be ferocious and unbending, certainly even more so in your own house. What, pray tell, would your regiment think if they knew that you were at the mercy of your wife’s skirts…?”

 

Peeta laughed again, grateful for the distraction his friend provided from the unpleasant task that confronted them. He could not tell his friends all the particulars - those had been Katniss’s secrets, secrets that now belonged only to him. He gripped the reins of his horse, thinking back to her confession and felt his blood boil beneath his easy banter with a desire for violence against the offending party. But he forced himself away from those thoughts before they became dangerous. There was no benefit to anger when shrewdness and temperance were what the occasion called for.  Peeta knew that when the moment came, he would deliver the much deserved blow with a cool and sure hand.

 

They neared the Port of Le Cap, perhaps the busiest port in the entire Caribbean, officially receiving more than 1000 registered ships of various cargo per year but the number was easily double that when measuring the movement of contraband or illegal trade. This distribution of undocumented, and therefore untaxed, merchandise represented a matter of difficult enforcement for police and military units tasked with its supervision.  If government officials were corrupt, the law had next to no influence on merchants and seamen, who were so abundant, at times they outnumbered the citizens of the city of Le Cap.

 

For convenience, Monsieur Crane kept his residence in an expensive neighborhood within walking distance of the piers, in a posh, two story home that was the picture of French elegance. A bachelor of means, Seneca Crane often threw balls in his famously lavish gilded hall, rumored to be able to hold all of the members of the Assemble, their dependents and their spouses with room to spare.  He hailed from a powerful family who had passed on their various concerns to the only son and heir of the vast Crane family fortune.

 

Peeta handed the reins of his horse to the stable hand, waiting for Finnick to dismount before walking up the giant, pillared stairs and stood before a door so tall and wide, a coach could fit easily through it. Neither man was a stranger to the trappings of wealth as they went about their business in Le Cap, enforcing the law or, in the case of Finnick, treating the ailments of the well-to-do when he was not engaged in military business.  However, Peeta wondered how much more Katniss would have been at her ease if he had perhaps made it a priority to amass more wealth than he had in his career.

 

When the porter showed them into the drawing room, both Peeta and Finnick indulged their curiosity with the various bric-a-brac that adorned the expensive wood furniture and shelves, including marble busts, clocks, statuettes, and vases.  Interspersed with such trinkets were items of inestimable value - a silver chess set with brass inlay which stood proudly on a table designed to show it in its best light, expensively bound books lined the tall shelves and the furniture was spaced on delicately carved legs of pure mahogany.  Each of these ornaments, down to the polished mirrors spoke of fashionable Parisian salons and old continental wealth.

 

“It is quite the collection, is it not?” Finnick said, admiring a small statue of Daphne and Apollo, the tiny leaves of marble so detailed, Peeta thought he might actually see them sprouting from the young naiad’s fingertips, could feel her desperation in the way they stretched away from the greedy god’s grasp.  

 

He surveyed the other miniature statues, “It is clearly the collection of a man of taste.”

 

A servant interrupted their appraisal of the room with an offer of tea.

 

“Yes, please,” Finnick answered, accepting on both their behalf.  When it arrived, he took two spoons of sugar from the sugar pot and stirred carefully while Peeta steeped his for a bit longer, leaving it bitter, as he liked it.  A second set of steps could be heard in the foyer outside, in response to which Peeta stiffened.

 

Amiably, Finnick said, “I truly admire the art of the Italian Renaissance,” he indicated with his head toward a marble sculpture as tall as he was.  “A true example of mastery of the human form.”

 

“I believe, had I been born in other circumstances, I would have been an artist or a curator,” a smooth voice came from behind them. Peeta turned to see Monsieur Crane standing in the doorway with a raised eyebrow, lips curled into a polite, perfectly polished smile. He was a tall man of handsome, if rather severe, features, a closely cropped mustache that was very much in vogue with the season, black hair combed back from a widow’s peak, framing his light skin.  He no longer had the sallow, petulant look he wore in the forest during the meeting with Makkube and it was clear that he was not accustomed to physical discomfort. He employed a manager to take care of the running of his plantation and resided a significant portion of the year in Le Cap, enjoying its urban comforts.

 

Peeta offerred his hand to the gentleman, though his skin crawled with revulsion. “I have, on occasion, indulged my interest in the arts by trying my hand at a painting or two but my responsibilities leave little time for it,” Peeta said by way of introduction.

 

“Fascinating!” Monsieur Crane answered before turning his attention towards Finnick.  “Dr. Odair. A pleasure to see you when I am not ill.”

 

“I do prefer my patients with the pallor of health,” Finnick answered.

 

Crane nodded, returning his attention to Peeta. If Peeta had not known the particulars described to him by Katniss, he would have deemed Monsieur Crane as simply another landowner, average except for the fact that he was still unmarried. He would have considered the rumors of his stranger urges to be simply that - rumors - and would have taken him for a privileged, if somewhat insipid, man of great wealth.

 

“I must apologize for my...excitement...at Lauriers,” he began, and Peeta could almost hear the false sweetness falling from his lips. He pasted a mild, if somewhat unimpressed smile on his lips and let the man speak but all the while, Peeta had a sudden urge to box his ears for any number of offenses.  “Cato was a close associate. I had occasion to keep his company many times.  His sudden death and fall into disgrace from the scandal of the poison,” he shook his head as if it had been the most dreadful occurrence.  “The shock of his manipulations took me unawares and I behaved mostly unseemingly.”  Peeta nodded in acknowledgement but could not help but think that humanity had lost little in the way of value with the death of the Buccaneer. 

 

“It was a distressing bit of business,” Finnick answered, smoothing the attempt at reconciliation and sparing Peeta the need to say anything further.  “However, it is but a trifle between gentlemen.”

 

Crane tilted his head toward Finnick. “You are, as always, as wise as you are skilled.” He turned his attention back to Peeta, indicating that they take a seat. “How can I be of service today?”

 

Peeta took his tea, affecting a casual air.  He noted that the gentleman had not congratulated him on his wedding, an oversight that normally would have been uninteresting to him but, given the circumstances, stood out as a glaring omission. “You have a slave that I am interested in purchasing.”

 

Crane poured a cup of tea from the tray and added sugar.  “I have many slaves of excellent quality.  Which in particular are you interested in?”  He sipped nonchalantly from his tea, watching Peeta from over the rim.

 

“The Fish-Seller. I am in possession of a small home in Le Cap and have need of a responsible servant who can oversee the management of it while I am on military excursions, which are unfortunately quite frequent.” Peeta shifted slightly. “I have noted the young man in the course of his work and was impressed by his abilities.”

 

Crane studied Peeta with much the same eyes as Commandante Snow - as a predator would meditate on his prey.  Peeta sipped his tea casually, holding the man’s stare.  He was sure that the gentleman was weighing the sincerity of the Capitaine’s word but Peeta was determined to give him little to work with.  After several frustrating moments of silence, Crane removed a bell from his pocket and rang it. The tinkling sound wound throughout the house until a servant appeared, nearly trembling in obeisance.

 

“Have Thresh brought here at once,” he snapped.  “Do not dally!”

 

The slave gave a curt nod and sprinted as quickly as decorum permitted from the room.  Crane turned to Peeta, continuing to appraise him in the most bold manner, eyes sweeping Peeta’s physique as if he were weighing the merits of a race horse.

 

“It is difficult to find a slave that can do what Thresh does. He is quick with numbers and conducts his work with all seriousness.  He has been trained over the course of several years, training that will add to the purchase price if I were so inclined to sell him.” His smile was smug and there was something akin to delight in his eyes. “However, I have several other slaves who might suffice and, with time, might become as accomplished as he is.” Crane said smoothly.

 

“The Capitaine’s next expedition will be upon him and he will have little time or luxury to train a hand before he is forced to depart.  As you can imagine, time is not in his favor.  It would be most convenient if one could be obtained with the requisite virtues already intact,” Finnick interjected.

 

Mr. Crane steepled his fingers before him, appearing lost in consideration but Peeta’s instinct, refined from years of working with people of all stations, told him that his petition was at great risk of failure.  The glint in Crane’s eyes when he trained them on Peeta confirmed as much.

 

“Certainly your  _ wife _ , who has managed a household by herself for several years, would be well-qualified to instruct her servants in the proper responsibilities of a respectable household. Perhaps you underestimate her ability to manage her servants,” Crane said.

 

Peeta answered, his voice now an octave lower than when he’d first entered. “She is more than capable of executing all of her duties but I seek only to ease the trouble she could have with directing an inexperienced slave,”  Watching Crane blanch at the change in tone was a small satisfaction in an otherwise failed interview.  Peeta was sure he would be unable to control himself had he even uttered her name. 

 

“Indeed,” Crane said as footsteps could be heard in the corridor.  A tall, muscular young man was ushered into the room.  Peeta was immediately struck by the his bearing - strong, straight back, sharp, intelligent eyes set in a handsome, but impassive face.  There was something in the man that he rarely saw in others, either freeborn or slave - dignity. The young man cloaked himself in dignity despite his circumstances.  Peeta cast an eye towards Finnick who nodded as he considered the young man also.

 

“An admirable specimen,” Crane practically purred, as if seeing Thresh for the first time. “Thresh speaks French and Creole.  He is built for the fields but for his mind - a rare example of being clever but not too clever as to use his intellect to devise an escape from his masters. Even selective breeding would have failed to produce such quality,” Crane said.  Peeta watched as Finnick’s demeanor changed, his jaw grinding together until the muscles of his face rippled. Crane did not miss Finnick’s reaction, chuckling quietly to himself. 

 

“I would pay well for him,” Peeta said, calling Crane’s attention back to the matter at hand.

 

“Yes, but perhaps not well enough to offset the cost of his maintenance and education.  I’m sorry, I simply cannot part with the young man. His services are far too valuable to me.”

 

Peeta was aghast at the rudeness of the man but held his face in check, nodding while his jaw clenched and unclenched with displeasure.  The slave under discussion stood impassively before them, a large, immovable stone in the midst of a raging river of unspoken insults and suppressed rage.

 

“I am prepared to pay more than his worth,” Peeta insisted.  “since you have been so kind to display his virtues to us for your obvious amusement. Twice his purchase value.”

 

Crane’s eyes widened in shock. “Twice?  Already his worth is far above my other hands, perhaps the most valuable commodity in my possession, and you would pay twice that?  You certainly know how to tempt a man!” he exclaimed, forgetting his manners in his disbelief.  “Twice, indeed!”

 

Peeta had made the offer in the heat of anger and now regretted it, for it revealed his desperation to purchase at any cost.  He waited for the gentleman to ponder his proposition but Peeta would just as soon see this appointment at an end.  Certainly, if he was turned down after so generous an offer at this point, it would simply be out of spite for himself or Katniss.  Peeta glanced at Finnick again, who had since recovered himself, before turning his attention to Crane.

 

“You see how important it is to resolve this matter before the  _ Capitaine  _ departs again.  Certainly, such generous terms cannot be ignored, sir!” Finnick smiled broadly, though his green eyes were still aflame with his mysterious anger.  

 

Crane straightened, speaking with positive glee.  “And yet I must. I appreciate your situation, Capitaine Mellark, but I will never sell the young man.  I apologize.”  Crane refilled his cup, pretending to be engrossed with the taking of his tea.  

 

Peeta, who was fuming, followed suit, together with Finnick, and refreshed his tea.  Finnick was pensive as he drank, though he was more successful at dissimulating his feelings.  It was only from his long association with the Doctor that Peeta understood Finnick’s unease.  Peeta himself felt his disappointment give way to anger at the malicious satisfaction of the man who sat across from him, a man determined to trouble his wife, and in consequence, him out of meaningless spite.  

 

Finnick said something to Crane which held no interest for Peeta. He considered Katniss, who would be disappointed, and the young girl, who would likely be devastated, for surely she awaited the young man despite every obstacle to their situation.  Peeta eyed Crane, feeling murderous over his insinuations, his false decorum, his offensive manner of existing and wanted nothing more than to throttle the man for being the cause of the bad news he would have to bear to his wife.

 

“Thank you for your consideration,” Peeta said, nodding his head once to acknowledge Crane and his answer.  “In your place, I would be quite unwilling to part with such a valuable asset.”

 

“You understand me, then,” Crane said again, dismissing Thresh with a wave of his hand.    
“Please, Capitaine, give my best wishes to your lovely wife.  You may not be aware, but I was a friend of her family when her mother and father were still alive,” Crane said.

 

“Indeed, she was quite explicit about your...association. You may not be aware, but we do not keep secrets from one another. Good day, sir,” Peeta stood abruptly, pausing only to bow politely, which Crane returned stiffly.  When Peeta straightened, he smirked at the suddenly pallor that fell over Crane’s features before turning on his heels and leaving him frozen on the spot.  Soon, Peeta and Finnick took to their horses and rode away from the dreadful scene.

 

“Quite a personage, is he not?” Finnick asked through gritted teeth. 

 

“Vile man,” Peeta huffed, sorry that he had not come alone so that he could simply beat the man without conscience or witness. He knew it was a juvenile reaction but it assuaged his abused pride and wounded sentiments. 

 

“It is shocking that he would turn down such a generous offer, after displaying the young man to us.  For the sake of decorum, alone, it would have been right for him to accept the terms and send the slave with you. I do not understand what could motivate such appalling manners.”

 

Peeta knew well but could not very well share it with Finnick. “Lauriers. No doubt, his pride was affronted.  It was a public rebuke and, despite his words, he has not recovered from it.”

 

Finnick nodded. “If that is the case, than I can only hope that his refusal will be enough to assuage  _ his  _ wounded pride.”

 

Peeta yanked on the reigns of his steed. Finnick did not know.  He could not possibly understand the nature of the man they had just met. No one besides Katniss and Peeta, and perhaps Johanna, knew how deeply the man’s vileness ran.  He doubted very much that this small intercourse would be enough to satisfy such a base character.  And yet despite the sure expectation of failure, he could not help but feel a profound disappointment.   It would be his wife and, even more so, young Rue who would feel the true depth of his failure and Peeta was loath to be the bearer of anything that could displease Katniss.

  
  


**XXXXX**

 

**September, 1790**

 

**Katniss**

  
  


Katniss held the emerald green dress against her skin, marveling at its construction. Annie had outdone herself with its design and the exquisite delicacy of its stitch.  It was simple - the shape of a ballroom dress, complete with scalloped bodice, snug waist and shimmering satin that flaired slightly before cascading to the ground. 

 

But the masterpiece was the bodice itself.  Made of the same green satin as the rest of the dress, it was overlaid with a gold brocade design of flowers that reached up to the border of the sheer, off the shoulder sleeves.  It was the only elaboration on the entire dress but it rendered the bodice the center of the attention, drawing the eye to the slight but generous curves of its wearer. Annie had emphasized all of Katniss’s advantages with the lovely dress without over-exposing her. It was the dress of a lady, and one of the prettiest things she’d ever worn.

 

In many ways, the ball thrown for Brutus Oge’s reception would also be her coming out ball, though she was a married woman of twenty.  She had never attended gatherings in respectable society, her company mostly demanded for such diversions as gambling or the theater.  This was her first ball. Yet, despite the gorgeous dress, she was not particularly eager to attend this one. She did it for her husband and for the sake of decorum.

 

The sound of Johanna’s steps on the stairs roused Katniss from her thoughts. She set the dress back in the armoire and gathered her skirts, meeting her friend at the door of her bedroom.

 

“We should leave now if we are to arrive at our appointment,” Johanna said, glancing briefly behind Katniss before continuing.  “Mother Seeder will not wait overlong for us.” As Johanna spoke, she struggled with the hem of a dress more common to the  _ affranchis _  - slim bodice, flowing skirts, even with a touch of ruffle at the edge of her sleeve.  Katniss quirked her lips at the striking figure of a respectable Johanna appearing almost feminine despite the scowl on her lips and the pouch that held her ax at her waist.  

 

“You look positively lady-like today, Johanna,” Katniss teased, the look of annoyance darkening Johanna’s features even more.

 

“I am indulging Rue,” she said in a huff, her irritation masking the tenderness with which she spoke the young woman’s name.  “She is less unhappy when she fusses over me and pretties me up. I find it all intolerable and can’t, for the life of me, fathom why anyone would expend so much effort on their appearance,” she lamented, rolling her eyes for emphasis.  “But it animates her and so I submit to her preening as if she were preparing a show horse.”

 

Despite her gruff manner, Johanna loved Rue.  After the devastating news of Crane’s refusal to sell Thresh to Peeta, Rue had been stricken with a melancholy so bleak, she ceased to speak to anyone for a fortnight unless she was spoken to.  Katniss and Johanna had worried, for she appeared to wither like a vine in winter.  When the hollows beneath her eyes appeared, they were compelled to intervene. Johanna took Rue with her on errands, engaging the girl with anything that would make her forget her troubles. Katniss was gentle in her requests and made sure the girl took her meals with Johanna and Katniss when Peeta was occupied with his work at the barracks or away on his short campaigns.  

 

As they stepped out of the house, Katniss paused to open her parasol and covered both her and Johanna from the biting, midday sun. 

 

“How was your interview with Madame Flickerman?” Johanna asked at length.

 

Katniss pinched her lip, lost in pensive silence before she spoke again. “I have had the most perfect month of my life, Rue’s predicament notwithstanding,” Katniss said quietly.  Johanna tilted her head slightly to listen to what Katniss said.  “I have had the near undivided attention of my husband, including his unconditional affection and acceptance.  He has neither mortified me nor made me feel to be less than his equal.  I find it rather more difficult to subject myself to anything less at the hand of others, even one as esteemed as Madame Flickerman.”

 

“Ah, I see,” Johanna said.  “I must confess, I did not anticipate such comportment from the Captain. I assumed he would be as...insipid...as other husbands can be towards their wives.  I fully expected his attentions to wan quickly, after the first blush of love had been realized. I see now that I was mistaken, and never more happy to be so.”

 

Katniss was taken aback by his friend’s almost affectionate sentiments toward Peeta.  Johanna had been obedient but not warm towards her new master, though she was never insubordinate. “How have you now become so enthusiastic toward our Capitaine?  What happened to strangling him with his own balls and other such delightful admonishments against his maltreatment of me?”

 

Johanna chuckled.  “I still find him rather hard to swallow at times, with his almost naive morality and tragic kindness but he is sincere…” she sniffed the air, as if offended that she should have such gentle sentiments towards anyone, least of all, a man.  “He truly loves you and he makes you happy.  You glow, you silly, mindless woman,” she chuckled as Katniss scowled in mock horror. “It is nearly intolerable how stupidly happy you are.  I cannot begrudge him if he is the cause of your happiness.”

 

She gave her friend a squeeze as they crossed a square, ready to respond to her when a flurry of noise and activity burst from the corner of the market. Suddenly, there was a young, black boy, no older than twelve, racing barefoot before them. He was given chase by two men in the classic red, white and blue uniforms of the French soldiers.  

 

Katniss and Johanna froze on the spot, watching this quick-footed boy suddenly trip on a flagstone on the ground.  In horror, Katniss watched as the soldiers pounced on him, the blows echoing through the open square as his hands were finally bound.  She made to move, but was held in place by Johanna as the soldiers continued to cuff the boy even after he’d been bound. All around the square, affranchis and whites nodded in approval while many, like Katniss, looked on in horror and a few faces wore anger and frustration until the soldiers had tired of their sport and dragged the bruised and battered child out of the square.

 

Even after everyone else had gone about their business, Katniss continued to stare in the space that once contained the boy, aghast at the brutality of the soldiers. But it was also the soldiers and their uniform in particular that had caused a wave of nausea to wash over her.  She could not imagine Peeta behaving in such a monstrous manner, and yet, did he not have a reputation for ruthlessness?  Was he not a Capitaine and tasked in the same way, to capture slaves and beat them, if he saw fit?  She knew of Peeta even before they’d met, but she wondered how well she could say she truly knew him, even now.

 

Johanna, tugged at her arm and pulled her away from the square, thankfully, in the opposite direction of the squabble.  “Some soldiers execute their duties with excessive glee.”

 

“I...I know this,” Katniss stammered, the image of her husband floating just above her. She thought of Erzuli Dantor, who had lost her lover and mourned wildly for him until his return from the world of the spirits, but not without a price. “I have always know this. And yet, despite all, I cannot imagine Peeta…” Katniss paused, trying to clear her head and finding it difficult.  “Peeta would not beat a child unnecessarily.”

 

“No, he wouldn’t,” Johanna said firmly. “Of this I am certain, though he is quite capable of violence. Katniss, what did you expect soldiers did when they found runaway slaves?  Why does this surprise you all of a sudden?”

 

Katniss tried to rid her mind of the image of Peeta in a soldier’s uniform, beating that young man, but the image lingered like a malevolent spirit around her mind. She was most irritated with herself, especially with her naivete.  Of course, as tender and kind as Peeta was with her, she could not expect him to be so with others. He had earned a reputation with good reason and she knew it. And yet her heart ached and suddenly, she wanted to find him and beg him to reassure her that though he was strong, he was not cruel, that his power came from justice and was not without mercy.

 

Katniss realized they’d tarried too long. She walked with Johanna to a small house on the Avenue of the Tributes.  She had a sudden desire to beg off the appointment and be alone, to sort out her mind and leave Johanna to the business of Mother Seeder.  But they were already before the door and she feared to affront the venerable lady with her sudden withdrawal.  She would have to set aside her thoughts until a later time, when she could better think through her unease.

 

**XXXXX**

 

**Peeta**

 

The order arrived at the end of the day, just as Peeta gathered his hat and gloves and prepared to depart for home.  It had come directly from the Commandant, a trifle for one such as him and clearly a personal favor for one of the landowner. That Peeta himself was asked to lead a search at such a late hour should have been his indication that this was more than simply law enforcement. 

 

“Who is claiming the escaped men?” Peeta asked the Commandant's secretary when the order was brought, together with a small package. 

 

“Monsieur Crane, sir,” the gentleman answered before leaving the room.  Peeta waited until the he was out of hearing before tearing open the wrapping to find a torn, bloodied shirt inside.  Peeta crumpled the paper and threw it onto the floor of his office.

 

“ _ Merde _ !” Peeta cursed at the coarseness of the man. And of course, like the sycophant the Commandant was, he had accommodated the foul gentleman’s request, involving Peeta in the whole distasteful matter.  Peeta found himself fuming as he slammed the furniture of his office into place, stomped to the stable to gather his men and mounted his white horse, pausing long enough to send a messenger to Katniss to advise her that he would be home very late.  He watched as his men similarly mounted their steeds with frustration that their journey would not end in their warm beds but in the mosquito-infested jungles surrounding Le Cap.  

 

Peeta silently cursed Snow and Monsieur Crane all the way to the outskirts of the city, near the location that the men had last been seen. He organized his handful of soldiers on horseback together with four dogs who yelped and played amongst themselves.  It took very little time before the dogs, drunk on the aroma of the torn shirt, were straining against their collars, thirsting for blood.  Still glowering, Peeta led the men into the jungle, as far as the horses could go before he unsaddled and left one of his men with the animals, proceeding further on foot behind the sniffing hounds.

 

The the number of slaves fleeing for the wild mountains that surrounded Le Cap had been steadily increasing and Peeta had had to involve his men more and more lately in their capture and recuperation. It was unpleasant business, as the punishment for an attempted escape was at the owner’s leisure but usually including flogging and, on the plantations, death by torture and hanging.  Peeta was glad that he had not had to participate himself in directing such searches anymore but it was distasteful work nonetheless.

 

After an hour of plodding through the vegetation, his first Lieutenant Mitchell called out to him, interrupting Peeta’s ruminations. “Capitaine Mellark!”  Peeta veered about to face the young man of five and twenty.   

 

“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” Peeta asked.

 

“The trail appears to fork off, as if the men have split up.  It is a weak digression, perhaps one man in total.  Shall we send a team in pursuit of the other lead?”

 

Peeta rubbed his face, looking up at the sky, hoping the sun would set soon so that he would have a legitimate reason to declare the search unsuccessful and go home to his wife.  “You take the men and follow the main trail. I will take one of the hounds and track the deviation.”

 

“Yes, sir!” Lieutenant Mitchell said before racing off to deliver his orders.

 

With one of the bloodhounds in hand and glad for a reprieve from his companions, Peeta made his way through the gnarled underbrush almost perpendicular to the main trail.  The downtrodden, tropical leaves, snapped cassava stalks and boot marks in the moist earth made it clear that someone had been here very recently, confirmed by the dog’s excitement as he raced along after the signs.  Peeta paused to unholster his pistol, preparing the muzzle for firing.  When he was done, he followed the dog, who became nearly apoplectic with excitement.  The sun was beginning to descend, although the light was still formidable and Peeta was grateful that the mosquitos had not yet woken to their nightly feasting.

 

A slight crunching ahead of the path caused Peeta to pause. It would have been remarkable if he’d found his target so soon, given the head start the men had in their escape.  Peeta sharpened his focus as he made his way up over a hillock covered in ivy, fallen palm branches and thorn bushes, while the hound was practically biting at the bit to get after the cause of the noises. All went silent, confirming what Peeta already suspected.  With pistol in hand, he crept around the tree to find the source of the noise.  

 

Peeta had expected every kind of thing - a slithering snake, of which the island was so full; a wild animal or a trembling slave, ready to beg for mercy.

 

What he found instead was a certain Thresh Arceneaux, flogged, bleeding and staring back at him with the defiance of a man who had determined that, no matter what, he would fight to his own death before he was returned to the chains of bondage alive. 

 

**XXXXX**

 

**I planned a second Rue x Thresh outtake to take a look at what happened between Crane’s meeting with Peeta and Peeta’s encounter with Thresh in the jungle. However, I have, since the beginning of this story, also planned an Odesta outtake (there is a very personal reason Finnick becomes furious at Crane’s mention of breeding slaves).   Therefore, look out for one or both of these in the next few weeks.**

 

**Thank you for your patience with this chapter. There is very little Everlark (that will be rectified in the next chapter) but there are important plot points here that move the story along.  I will update soon so we can all get our Everlark fix :).**

 

**Many thanks to thegirlfromoverthepond and akai-echo for prereading and providing advice on scenes (I had originally planned on a scene between Katniss and Madame Flickerman but the meeting with Crane was enough for one chapter).  There will be more interactions with the well-to-do of Le Cap when Everlark attends Oge’s ball.**

 

**Please review!**

  
  
  
  



	11. The Weeping Siren

**Chapter 10 - The Weeping Siren**

 

**_singing queen, where are you?_ **

 

**_the siren’s weeping,_ **

**_its seems her throat’s hoarse_ **

**_the sad town is grieving_ **

**_her cry is bathed in blood_ **

 

**_singing queen, where are you?_ **

 

**-from** **_Singing Queen, Where Are You_ ** **? by Pierre-Richard Narcisse**

 

**September, 1790**

**Peeta**

They stared at one another with deadly intent, the whirring of insects the only sound between the two men. Peeta recognized the young man instantly, despite the tattered clothes, the torn flesh, and the slight tremor of physical exertion that held the young man’s muscles in a tension that appeared nearly unbearable. Peeta sensed the hesitation in the man’s bearing also, though he gripped the curved blade of a work knife in his hand, a blunt, inelegant but ultimately utilitarian response to the fine, straight metal of Peeta’s rapier. Peeta felt this hesitation most acutely, for the last thing he desired was to spill the blood of this man.

Peeta straightened slowly out of his warrior’s crouch, eyeing Thresh carefully. His mind raced furiously over the explanation for the young slave’s current state of existence - the abused flesh, the desperation of flight that hovered over his every movement. From a prized slave to a fugitive, the fall in station could only be attributed to one thing, a realization that made Peeta become nearly ill with pity and remorse. It was that understanding that made him drop the point of his pistol, though he did not put it away completely. Not yet.

The dogs, meanwhile, had become wild with excitement, having found the source of the bloody shirt and practically leapt over each other to reach Thresh where he stood.

“Heel!” Peeta commanded, his voice reverberating through the giant leaves. The dogs whimpered as they settled down, nipping playfully at each other while awaiting their master’s pleasure.

Turning towards Thresh, Peeta did not waste precious sunlight on formalities. They were beyond such trifles. “What happened?” Peeta asked.

Thresh tilted his head, narrowing his eyes in confusion. He relaxed the hold on his knife and, like Peeta, lowered it also but only a few inches. He was at a distinct disadvantage - wounded, untrained and possessing a weapon far inferior to Peeta’s. But Peeta suspected Thresh would let none of these deficits interfere with the effort to mortally wound him, if it came to that. Even so, Thresh’s uncertainty was evident in the way his eyes flit from the jungle surrounding them to where Peeta stood, calculating a possible escape, a plan he appeared to momentarily abandon as he poised himself to speak.

“I am to be sent to the Crane Plantation to work the fields. As I do not agree with the dispatch, sir, I have decided to take matters into my own hands,” he said.

Peeta was taken aback by Thresh’s candor. “Indeed. And would this...dispatch...have anything to do with a certain recent inquiry of purchase?” he pressed, suddenly wanting to know all the particulars.

Thresh’s shoulders drooped slightly. “It...piqued...my master’s curiosity. However, this is not the sole reason for my sudden change in fortune.” He lowered his knife completely as he spoke. “His agents followed me and discovered me with -”

Peeta felt his indignation rise. “Rue. You were caught with Rue.”

Thresh nodded. “You’ll understand why I cannot allow myself to be banished to a plantation field to expire among the sugarcane. Either I die in flight or find my fortune elsewhere but I will not live as a beast any longer.” Thresh took a step to the side, having decided perhaps on the quickest route away from the Capitaine’s company but Peeta anticipated him and stepped in the direction of Thresh’s escape.

“I cannot allow you to leave,” Peeta said. 

A kind of panic crossed Thresh’s features before he schooled his features into a mask of determination. “I do not wish to hurt you, Capitaine. Rue esteems your wife greatly. But I will not return to Crane’s estate alive and I will not die quietly.”

Peeta knew his duty. It had always been clear to him from the moment he set foot on the sweltering island. And he had always acquitted himself well, performing his duties briskly, without question. If he needed information, he knew how to get it, which was why he was known as the Bloodhound. But as certain as he was of his mandate, he was equally certain that he did not wish to follow it, plunging him in a state of confusion from which only one response emerged.

 

“Nor do I desire injury by your hand,” Peeta answered. Casting his confusion aside, he burrowed into a leather pocket on his belt and pulled out a smaller pouch that jangled as he rubbed the supple leather. “However, you appear to be without provisions or means.” Peeta handed the pouch with gold coins inside to Thresh, together with his canteen and a pack of dried meats, fruit and nuts that every man in his regime was instructed to carry. 

 

The young man stared at these items in shock. Dropping all pretense of vigilance, Peeta searched the jungle around him, listening for the sound of the other search party. “Head west, away from the dogs, and from any intimation of humanity. There you will reach the mountains, beyond which is Maroon country. I have heard that they welcome fugitives. Are you familiar with what wild banana and papaya look like?”

Thresh nodded, his face a study in disbelief - brow furrowed, eyes wide beneath. He tucked the pouches in his belt and slung the canteen over his shoulder. “You conspire to allow a fugitive to escape capture? You, a Capitaine of the Army?”

Peeta’s thoughts flew to his interview with Crane, at the way the plantation owner had paraded Thresh before him and Finnick like a prized race hound. He recalled Katniss’s disappointment, Rue’s depression, Crane’s depravity and knew, in his heart, that though the law demanded the capture and internment of this young slave, there was another justice that cried out for satisfaction. Nothing of good would come of returning Thresh to Monsieur Crane, only more misery for the women in his life and certain disfigurement or even death for the slave. Though his Capitaine’s heart demanded obedience, his soul begged for mercy. He nodded in response to Thresh’s question.

“You have little time. Night will soon find you roaming the jungle and you will be captured if you do not reach the river by nightfall,” Peeta gathered his dogs, who yelped excitedly with the return of their master’s attention. “I will redirect my men to better assure your escape but you must make haste!”

Thresh nodded again and turned to run. However, before he had gone very far, he turned back towards Peeta. “Thank you, Capitaine. I will petition the Loas on your behalf, that they bless your home and repay your kindness. May I burden you with a message for Rue?” 

 

“Of course,” Peeta said gently. 

 

“Please tell Rue that I have not forgotten my promise to her.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the jungle, leaving Peeta with his words reverberating with a savage misery in his mind. He had the vague intimation that he had committed a great crime, a primitive reaction similar to when Finnick taps his knee, a jerking of the leg in automatic reflex, existing without explanation. Beyond this, he felt a certainty that strengthened with every step he took in the direction of the second search party. He had remanded his duty and betrayed his responsibilities. But the vision of Katniss’s anguish at the moment of her confessions regarding Crane and the bloodied signs of abuse on Thresh’s body, compelled him to reconsider this position and accept his decision.

Twilight had fallen by the time he reached the main search party. His men had been unsuccessful in their attempts to return the escaped men to custody, a consequence that brought Peeta an uncharacteristic satisfaction, though he was not normally one to tolerate mission failure. He secretly hoped that this turn of events would ensure that it would be the last time Snow called on him to settle such matters. Ordering his men to return the hounds to the barracks, Peeta finally began his long journey home. He could have remained at the barracks and expedited a messenger to Katniss but his desire to see his wife was greater than his immediate need for rest. 

Peeta patted his horse, the fine muscles bulging beneath the taut skin of the steed. As they rode, the strangeness of the night descended upon him. 

“It will be a relief to be home, Sultan,” he said to his horse in soothing tones.

The horse whinnied as if comprehending his master, bringing an involuntary smile to Peeta’s face. He continued to speak in low tones, though he was sure that the wind carried his words away from the horse’s hearing. Despite this fact, it gave him a strange comfort to unburden his worries onto a captive audience. His heart had grown heavy with the Thresh’s words, which echoed solemnly in his mind:

 

_ I have not forgotten my promise to her. _

 

How many promises had he made to his Katniss? And what obstacle could exist that would prevent him from fulfilling every single last one of them? His love for his  _ perle  _ was so strong, sometimes he felt he could halt the movement of the spheres if he must for her sake. Only two kinds of men could presume the same thing - a man mad with love or a man mad with delusion. And Thresh did not, to Peeta’s eyes, appear deluded. How, then, did a slave come to love so powerfully, the same way he did?

 

Because Thresh, too, was a man. A man who carried in his breast the same consuming need for his woman that Peeta did. This epiphany made every decision Peeta had ever made in his entire existence suddenly become unclear. He felt the need to scrutinize them, put them under the light of this new understanding, something he feared would leave him morally wanting. Peeta’s remorse extended beyond this circumstance, beyond his own tiny existence as Sultan carried him to one of the highest points in LeCap. He scanned the emerald green jungle which hid the Plains of the West Island from his sight. He suddenly felt ill at the hundreds of thousands of men in the fields, men like Thresh, men who carried devotions and longings, loves and desires in their hearts, most destined to die with them unrequited. The idea of it sickened Peeta and he yanked his horse, prodding him onward to his home, each pounding hoof an accompaniment to the pulsing of his unresolved thoughts.

As Peeta rounded the courtyard, he caught the golden glow of lamplight in one of the rooms facing the garden, the remainder of the house swallowed in shadows. Tethering his horse, he tended to it briefly before quietly entering his home, pausing to listen to the sounds of the sleeping house. Though he was eager to take to the stairs and find Katniss, the lamp on the veranda drew his attention and he followed, the dark shadows giving way to a gradual sharpening of vision until he was in the garden under the moonlight. With the brightening of light, he felt his heart go quieter, more still, though it remained heavy with the burden of knowledge, knowledge he longed desperately to share with his wife.

 

Beneath the full moon was a divan upon which reclined the very object of his search. Katniss wore a diaphanous gown with an equally thin dressing robe over it. She breathed evenly, her chest rising and falling with the depth of her slumber. An aching tenderness stole over Peeta at the sight of her gentle sleep and though he might disturb her, he did not suppress the desire to kneel beside her and leave a kiss on her forehead.

Katniss’s eyes fluttered open at the pressure of his lips. A slow, sleepy smile wound itself around her face when she caught sight of him, her arms rising like a child’s, beckoning him towards her, an invitation he would never be able to deny. Her arms around his neck provoked a deep release within him, an unraveling of every tense knot that had tied itself about him throughout the day. His body’s instantaneous response to her touch was total and he could not imagine how he had ever managed to sleep alone before her.

 

Even so, or perhaps because of her magic touch, his heart became more and more bloated by the vision of Thresh, bloodied and fierce, racing into the jungle, becoming unbearable to him. He laid his head on Katniss’s lap, seeking solace in her firm thighs, silently willing them to quiet his spirit.

 

“What troubles you?” came her whispered question, her fingers running through his wind-swept hair.

“An unintended delay,  _ ma perle _ ,” he mumbled into her gown without conviction.

 

She continued to toy with his hair but he sensed her watchful eyes upon him. After a time, she spoke again. “Unburden your heart, Peeta.”

 

Peeta lifted his head, taking in the vision of a sleep-softened Katniss - bright, drowsy eyes, hair in disarray, even a small crease from the pillow on her cheek where she’d lain. He sat up, taking the seat opposite to her, and held both her hands in his. “I was sent to retrieve a group of escaped slaves and return them to their master.”

 

Katniss tilted her head to the side, her curiosity causing her to wake completely. “That is not your purview?” she half asked, half stated.

 

“No, not normally. That is often left to the junior officers. However, it was requested that I attend to this matter personally. 

 

Katniss took a deep breath, a shadow crossing her face at his words. “Did you...did you find these fugitives?”

 

Peeta held her gaze a beat longer than necessary, torn as he was by his confession, that he had not fulfilled his duty and that the fate of the slave could remain forever unknown. “Katniss,” his voice quavered, the stress and the uncertainty finally taking its toll on him. “The request came from directly Crane to Snow. He demanded that I be the one to retrieve the escapee.”

 

Katniss’s confusion gave way to a sudden understanding. “You don’t mean…?”

 

Peeta nodded. “I was ordered to track and capture Thresh.”

 

Her hand flew up over her mouth, biting back a sob. “Did you...did you find him?”

 

Peeta dropped his eyes and nodded again.

 

“ _ Mon Dieu _ !” she leapt up from her seat, pacing the floor in a state of extreme agitation. “Peeta, where is he?”

 

He followed her, rising out of his seat, attempting to calm her. “No, Katniss, you misunderstand. I ...I didn’t turn him in. I found him but...I let him go.” Peeta shook his head and looked out past her bare shoulder, his eyes settling on the tormented sky. “I couldn’t…It broke open a hole within my conscience and now, I cannot close it again. And it bleeds,” he sunk back down on the divan, weak with all his uncertainties. 

 

“How many...how many men have I condemned to death in my career, Katniss? How many men, seeking what belongs to us all, by God’s right and our nature, have been returned to their master’s to be destroyed, by my hands?” Peeta stared at his large, calloused hands, balling them into fists that he rested against his forehead. He soon felt Katniss’s hands in his, taking his fists and showering them with kisses.

 

“ _ Met mwen _ ,” she whispered. Peeta lifted his eyes and saw her anguish in her eyes. “Since the moment we are born, we are forced to act on partial knowledge and received truths, truths that have been bestowed upon us by our families or society. We do not question them deeply, for if we did, we would become mad with what we find. You cannot feel but remorse and pity but not guilt. You did what was expected of you, what you believed was right…” She clutched his hands to her. “You have questioned something and now have a new truth. You will act according to your conscience and I will always follow you, even if it takes us both to hell.”

 

Peeta started to protest, to tell her that though he might have been given this knowledge of things, all men of good conscience must be expected to examine his beliefs and he never had. Not until now. 

“No, you are not to blame. It is my fault and my fault alone,” Katniss said, bringing his attention back to her again. “Crane would have never suspected anything had I not brought the issue to bear. Poor Thresh!” She paced compulsively, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead as if to rid herself of a great pain. “Poor Rue…” she said, more to herself as the reality of Thresh’s escape seemed to descend on her with relentless clarity. “He will never see his child now.”

“Katniss…no” said Peeta in a pleading voice.

Katniss halted before him, peering up with wide, angry eyes. “Every time my path crosses Crane, I pay with misfortune. How could I have been so naïve? And now others must suffer for it also!”

“Katniss!” Peeta took her by the shoulders, shaking her gently. “If the man has the devil himself inside of him, you are not to blame. He would have found one way or another to inflict harm. It is clear to me that his evil has no discrimination.”

“And yet you would carry the wrongdoing of this entire island on your back! We are a sad pair, you and I.” A bitter laughed escaped her. “I will speak to Rue in the morning. She must know, if she is not informed already,” Katniss answered, distracted again by her thoughts. Peeta watched her, unconvinced of her state of mind. He could bear all things but he could not bear her anguish and it was clear, as they moved through the house to their bedroom, that Katniss was as burdened as he was with the heaviness of guilt.

 

When they retired to their bed, Katniss took to her side, laying rigid beside Peeta, her eyes open, boring into the ceiling. Unable to bear her unhappiness, he gently pulled her to him and cradled her, smoothing away the tension that had gathered beneath her luminous, dark skin. Everything he had believed, everything that he had constructed as sure in his vision of the world was slowly coming apart, dissolved in the experiences he’d had since he first tied his life to Katniss. As he held her, attempting to caress away her guilt, his certainty dissipated with every stroke until the only thing he knew with clarity was that he belonged to Katniss. They finally fell into a fitful sleep after many hours had passed into the depths of night.

 

**XXXXX**

 

Rue sat quietly, her hands folded serenely over the swell of her growing stomach. Katniss sat beside her, eyes downcast, her face betraying her abject misery though, to her credit, she did not cry or become mindlessly agitated. Katniss was a woman of great fortitude and understood the value of not being overly sentimental.

 

Peeta thought for sure that Rue, however, might give herself over to a moment of weakness but her comportment never gave any intimation of this. She simply nodded when Katniss shared with her the news that Thresh had escaped and that Peeta had refused to arrest him when he was found. 

 

“I am grateful for your kindness towards me,” she said with a quiet but firm voice.

 

There was true gratitude when she kissed Katniss’s hand but Katniss could not endure it and hugged the young girl to her. Rue found her ease in her mistress’s embrace and visibly melted, releasing the mask of self-sufficiency long enough to allow Katniss to comfort her. Peeta felt like his presence was unnecessary and carefully rose to take his leave but Rue shook her head.

 

“Capitaine, no, I must thank you,” she said as she took Peeta’s hand and kissed it, lingering as if in prayer over his. This made him incredibly uneasy, for he knew in his heart that he had done nothing to merit such gratitude. Only a hard-hearted cad would have been able to return Thresh to captivity, knowing all the particulars of his predicament. But Rue’s sweetness moved him and he carefully petted her small head, as if he were caring for a small child.

 

“Rue, he left a message for me to give you,” Peeta added once Rue had released his hand.

 

“Sir?” she said, her eyes wide and Peeta saw Katniss turn away at the girl’s desperate hope.

 

“He asked that I tell you that he had not forgotten his promise to you,” he said.

 

Rue took a deep breath, nodding to herself. “Indeed. I believe in him more than I believe in all the world that surrounds me,” she said and suddenly, Rue aged before his eyes. Peeta could no longer see the small, waifish girl with delicate hands and worshipful mannerisms. She grew, became harder, more solid. Something changed in that one sentence of hope, that one defiance to trust in a promise despite every manner of obstacle that might interfere with the fulfillment of that commitment. When Rue rose to her feet, she was a woman. She curtsied deeply before Katniss, then walked with the grace of a queen, out of the room and to the kitchen.

 

Katniss shook her head, muttering to herself, upon which Peeta captured her hand in his, kissing her knuckles gently. Before they retired from the room, Peeta whispered to Katniss, “You are not to blame for this. Banish the thought from your mind.”

 

She nodded, her grey eyes wide and turbulent. She had heard him but Peeta could not be sure that she truly believed him. For his part, he was unmoored by the events of late. He would not expose his uncertainties to her but clung to her in silence, searching for a way to become himself again.

 

**XXXXX**

 

**Katniss**

 

Peeta left early the next morning to attend to his duties at the barracks. She was sure, after a disturbed night of sleep for both of them, that he would spare himself at least an hour of repose. But as soon as dawn had barely broken through the wooden slats of their shutters, he was through the mosquito netting and dressed, pausing only to leave a kiss on her forehead, as was his habit. She longed to call him back to her but, having lost a night to her compulsive thoughts, she could no more keep her eyes open than she could lift her husband’s steed with one hand. She returned to her slumber, grateful for a few more hours of rest.

 

So it was with a shock that Johanna burst into her dreams, rousing her roughly from her sleep.

 

“What mad spirit has possessed you?!” Katniss shouted groggily.

 

“Get dressed! It’s Rue! She’s been arrested.”

 

“What?” Katniss lept out of bed and, with Johanna’s harried assistance, dressed, pausing only to set her hair in some semblance of order. “I don’t understand. Who came for her?” she said as she struggled with her corset.

 

“Soldiers took her this morning, by order of the magistrate. No one was notified. I only found the note on the door when I returned from my errands. They must have taken her while she was on the road. It is imperative that we hurry down to the prison and find her at once!” Johanna said, breathless with her fury. “They will not care that she is pregnant - they will chain her like a dog!”

 

“Lavinia!” Katniss shouted. Soon, there was a flurry of steps on the stairs as the tall woman appeared in the bedroom. “Go personally to the barracks and fetch the Capitaine. Tell him to meet us at the stocks.” The woman paused in confusion. “Do not dally! If there are fires, douse them. Go directly and find my husband! Johanna, fetch the coach!”

 

Forgetting every kind of lady-like decorum, the three ladies raced down the stairs to their respective tasks. Katniss made straight away to the secret place where she and Johanna kept their earnings and took a bag of gold, hoping that, where persuasion might fail, justice might be coaxed with more lucrative enticements. 

 

Katniss clutched Johanna’s hand for the short journey to the prison, located in the fortification at the base of the Northern battlements. She lept down from her carriage, arrested by the foul smell of sweat, horse dung and human misery. The thought that her delicate bird would have been forced, with her child, into a place of such hard squalor was more than Katniss could bear and, with the fury of a Loa, demanded of the watchmen that she should speak to the warden at once. 

 

A soldier directed her to the prison offices. There, she met the warden, a man about ten years Peeta’s senior but clearly suffering from consumption or a similar ailment that had robbed him of his vitality. Toothless, he wore a frayed uniform and openly leered at Katniss.

 

“Who presumes to demand…?” 

 

“Madame Mellark, wife of Capitaine Peeta Mellark, of Cap Hatien’s Western Regiment,” Johanna answered with a certain pride that caught Katniss’s attention, but only for a moment 

 

The man’s face changed, the lustful attitude towards the lady dissipating and transforming into one of deference and fear. With a stutter, the man said, “Madame, I was not aware…”

 

“My slave was arrested without my knowledge this very morning,” Katniss interrupted haughtily, already impatient and unimpressed with the slovenly officer. “I wish to know the nature of her offenses, for I will not tolerate damage to my property.” Katniss hated every word she uttered, describing Rue as if she were a horse or a piece of machinery that she wished to have delivered to her care intact. However, she knew that sentimentality with respect to her treatment of the young slave would have resulted in her squandering a tenuous advantage over the jailer.

 

“Of course, of course. Please, have a seat and I will search out her warrant,” he said with such excessive obsequiousness, Katniss repressed the urge to box his ears. She remained standing, glancing with disdain at the chair and refusing all repose as the warden shuffle through piles of dingy parchment until his stubby, cracked hands alighted upon a newly minted scroll. 

 

“Ah, here it is,” he said triumphantly. “My, my, they are serious charges indeed. Monsieur Seneca Crane has procured a warrant of arrest from the Fourth District Magistrate for the slave, Rue, property of a Mademoiselle Katniss Everdeen, for the offense of conspiring and assisting in the escape of the slave, Thresh, property of said gentleman. He claims a loss in the amount of 1000 Livres and demands reparations as well as a penal sentence against the offending slave to the maximum extent of the law.”

 

“He could not even be bothered to name you properly,” Johanna groused.

 

“It is part of the insult,” Katniss said, the reverberation of her speeding heart strumming at the base of her throat, leaving her short of breath. Before she could answer, there was a clattering of noise beyond the door. To her eternal relief, Peeta burst into the office with a flustered Finnick trailing behind him.

 

“He has no authority to arrest my slave without the expressed consideration of her master!” Peeta’s voice boomed, silencing even the men in the courtyard, who were chattering until a moment ago about banal matters regarding their chores. 

 

“But the warrant…” the man said in a shaking voice.

 

“The warrant was presented to neither the lady of the house or myself. It is an illegal arrest and you will remand the prisoner to me at once.”

 

“Capitaine, I cannot!”

 

“My man, you have committed an illegal arrest! Have you no respect for French law?” Finnick exclaimed.

 

The man became increasingly agitated. “It is signed by the magistrate himself! It will be my head if I violate any of the terms contained in the warrant.”

 

“Let me see the document,” Peeta said, snatching the parchment from the warden’s hand. Katniss stood next to him, reading the details together with him. It was as terrible as the man said.

 

Placing a hand on Peeta’s arm, she could feel his anger radiating from the taut muscles of his neck and shoulders. “I will speak to the magistrate directly. You will allow my wife to visit with the young woman and attend to her comfort. If any harm befalls my slave, I will seek compensation from you personally!” 

 

The warden visibly paled at the threat. “Peeta,” Katniss said, her voice suddenly small with fear.   
  


His face softened, a calloused hand cupping her trembling cheek. “ _ Ma perle _ , I will do everything in my power to return Rue to her home. I swear on my honor.”

 

He turned and strode out into the courtyard where she knew Sultan awaited his master. Finnick nodded his encouragement before he followed close behind his friend. For the first time since she’d met Peeta, she felt an acute sense of hopelessness blossom in her heart, a feeling of complete immobility which she brutally crushed. She had to be strong, if only for Rue’s sake. With this resolve, she clutched Johanna’s arm, indicating wordlessly to the warden that she was ready to be taken to her friend.

 

**XXXXX**

 

The cowed man led Katniss and Johanna down an endless winding stair, the suffocating damp and darkness reaching up to her with sharp, icy claws, threatening to pull her headlong into their depths. Lanterns lit the passages but their circle of light only reached so far. Because the fortification was located on a cliff, windows opened out onto the roaring sea, intervals of darkness giving way to sunlight and the roaring surf crashing against the rocks below. Katniss, who often found the sea comforting and even sensuous now felt threatened by its foamy currents, the sound of seagulls crying out not in celebration of love but in squawks of anger and retribution. There was no humanity in this place and only untamed spirits hung heavy in the salty air.

 

After an interminable walk, they arrived at Rue’s cell. She was not alone - there were stinking, wretched bodies of other women lying about, many with open sores at the place where the chains chaffed their skin, compounded by the humidity and long internment. Rue sat quietly, cradling her belly protectively, a heavy, iron cuff wrapped tightly around her ankle. Katniss stiffened when she saw her.

 

She nodded at the warden, who left the ladies to their visit. As soon as he was out of site, Katniss clung to the bars. “Rue!” she cried out.

 

Rue raised her large, brown eyes, which grew wide at the sight of her mistresses. 

 

“Are you well?” Katniss asked.

 

Rue rose slowly to her feet and shuffled to the bars that separated them. Katniss reached her hand through the metal to grasp Rue’s and held it tightly.

 

“This is an intolerable injustice. Peeta has gone to speak to the magistrate on your behalf. I promise, you will soon be released.”

 

Rue nodded at this. “Madame, I am so very sorry that you have troubled yourself - “

 

“Nonsense!” Katniss interjected. “You will not apologize. This is Crane’s doing and will not go unavenged. For now, we must ensure that you are well-cared for.”

 

“Yes,” Johanna interrupted, “Have you been mistreated?”

 

“No,” Rue said quietly, “I am quite fine.”

 

Katniss looked her over carefully, noting that she was not bruised or injured in anyway. “I will leave you with Johanna and return to the house straightaway to procure provisions. If you must remain here, we will ensure that you and the baby are attended to.”

 

“Yes. Sickness is rampant in these prisons. Mother Seeder boils all the water she gives to her sick patients,” Johanna added. “Do not drink the water here. Katniss will bring tea and arrange to have your meals delivered. You must not allow yourself to become ill.”

 

Katniss knelt to look at Rue’s leg, the ankle swallowed by the heavy irons and saw the irritation on her skin growing. Soon those infernal bonds would tear into her skin. “I have a salve that will ease your discomfort,” Katniss straightened, examining Rue as best she could through the jail bars. “But don’t lose hope. We will obtain your release.”

 

“I have faith in you and the Capitaine,” Rue said. Katniss squeezed her hand gently before leaving Johanna to keep her young charge company while Katniss returned above-level with the warden. She was sure Peeta would make headway with the magistrate. She had to believe that because the alternative made her want to scream hysterically. Meanwhile, as she gave the order to the coachman, Katniss made a mental list of the provisions Rue would need to ensure her comfort. Her single-minded focus on caring for Rue kept her from thinking of all of the ways the situation might not resolve itself in their favor.

 

**XXXXX**

 

Katniss returned with her supplies, instructing Lavinia to take on a temporary servant and prepared a list of provisions to take to the prison. In particular, Katniss brought ample bread in consideration of the other women in the jail cell who, out of anger or hunger, might resent Rue’s abundance and abuse her for their own share.

 

Together with Johanna, she remained with Rue well into the afternoon. When the change of guard arrived and there was still no sign of Peeta, Katniss sought out the warden, ensuring that the incoming guard knew of their arrangement and would allow Katniss and Johanna to stay until evening, offering gold to smooth their understanding. 

 

As the day wound to a close, when Katniss was sure she would return home without a resolution to Rue’s predicament, Peeta returned, descending into the bowels of that soulless prison and pulled her aside, his presence taking up all the remaining space in the cramped quarters.

 

“Lavinia told me you were still here,” he said by way of greeting. “I have spoken to the magistrate. He has agreed to hear Rue’s case in the morning. I tried to compel him to take it up today but…” Peeta leaned against the wall and Katniss saw clearly the signs of exhaustion in the taut lines of his lips. “I am so sorry,  _ ma perle _ .”

 

“No, don’t,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist, relief at his touch flooding her anxious soul. “I know you did all within your power. Tomorrow is better than one month from now,” Or years, as Katniss knew of many cases like these that could lay neglected, leaving many prisoners to wallow in prison without even the benefit of knowing the charges against them. Katniss returned to where Rue sat, speaking in low tones to Johanna and recounted the information regarding the magistrate.

 

“It is only one night, Madame,” Rue said, tugging the blanket against her body to ward off the damp chill of the stones. “You have attended to me so generously, I want for nothing.”

 

“Except for your home. And your warm bed,” Johanna said. “But you will be released soon. I am sure of it.”

 

Rue nodded, tucking herself into a small corner of the cell. “Then I will see you on the morrow. Thank you, Capitaine,” she said.

 

Peeta tipped his hat to her before taking Katniss and Johanna by the elbow and leading them out of that dank dungeon. Katniss blinked when confronted with the light of the sun and depended entirely on Peeta’s guidance to reach the carriage, Johanna stumbling stubbornly behind them. Climbing inside, all three exchanged a wordless glance full of pity and fear, settling against each other as best they could, finding what little comfort they could in the prospect of the hearing in the morning. The remainder of their journey was spent in silence, all thoughts now residing on the young woman they’d been forced to leave behind.

 

**XXXXX**

 

**A million thanks to @loving-mellark for the gorgeous banner and for prereading. In addition, I'd love to thank @kai-ech who has made a beautiful aesthetic for this story. Click here and be sure to tell them both how very amazing and talented they are. Also many thanks to @thegirlfromoverthepond for prereading and for catching little inconsistencies in time, practice and manner. She keeps me from looking like an idiot :). Check out her amazing new story, The Firebird, a ballet!Everlark fic that is simply to die for.**

 

**Thank you for reading and reviewing!**


	12. The Dark Goddess

**The Dark Goddess**

 

**_Sometimes I’m not myself_ **

**_There’s a wild loa dancing in my head_ **

**_A sorrowful loa which stamps the ground_ **

**_When it’s like that, I’m not myself_ **

**_There’s a huge drum beating in my heart_ **

**_A brave voodoo dance in my body_ **

**_When it’s like that I can’t say “darling”_ **

**_It’s comrade-friend I call you_ **

**_If you take hold of my hand_ **

**_There’s a loa of revolution boiling in my blood…_ **

 

 **-from** **_Sometimes I’m Not Myself_ ** **by Felix Morisseau-Leroy**

 

**XXXXX**

 

**Peeta**

 

Peeta woke to a day that was so surreal and unnatural, he could only describe it as the colour of heartbreak.

 

Clouds hung low and claustrophobic in the sky, the absence of wind rendered the air thick with humidity and difficult to breathe. No sooner had Katniss patted her skin dry but that she was covered again in a fine sheen of sweat that ran in rivulets, each pearly drop disappearing beneath her bodice.  His own uniform was nearly unbearable, even for his own high tolerance for discomfort but he endured it nonetheless without complaint.

 

As he helped Katniss into the carriage, he intimated that she was miserable, both in body and spirit.  His own temper, already agitated by the events of the last day, soured in the presence of her unhappiness. He did not wish to enter the chambers in a fury but he had had enough of Monsieur Crane’s interference in their lives. Regardless of the hearing’s outcome, Peeta had that very night reached a resolution of his own.  Crane might know him by reputation. He certainly knew him by sight. But today, Crane would come to know who Capitaine Mellark truly was.

 

All was quiet as they journeyed to collect his friend and general counsel, Monsieur Darius Devereaux, who would represent their position before the magistrate.  He had drawn up their marriage documents and would now be his ally in  this latest situation.

 

Peeta would forever be grateful to Annie and Johanna, both of whom had hurried straightaway to keep Rue company and manage her comfort, which left Katniss with one less preoccupation.  But that did not keep her from chewing at her lip in distraction.  Her nerves had driven her to a dramatic distemper and darkened her humors, but he still held on to the fervent hope that all would be resolved with the morning’s hearing.  

 

“ _Ma perle_ …” he whispered, pushing her hair aside.

 

She started, as if she had forgotten that others occupied the carriage with her.  “Peeta. I am sorry.”

 

“I know. But do not fret.  Darius explained to me that must have Crane a very weak case.  The magistrate signed his arrest warrant more out of deference for his position than for any evidence against Rue,” Peeta said, glancing at Darius for confirmation.

 

“Yes.  It is very difficult for Monsieur Crane to demonstrate the culpability of the pregnant girl without witnesses. Can you vouch for the whereabouts of the girl when she was not with Thresh?”

 

“Katniss can,” Peeta said firmly.

 

Darius nodded as he shuffled his notes. “You gave permission to Rue to consort with Thresh, am I correct?”

 

Katniss made to speak but Peeta placed a hand over hers.  He would not burden her with an interrogation “We did. She had permission to meet with whomever she pleased, as long as it did not interfere with her duties. My wife,” he glanced at Katniss with no small amount of adoration, “Is a magnanimous mistress.”

 

“Indeed.” Darius gave her a warm, approving smile, to which she responded with a weak one of her own.  “Here we are!” he said as the carriage stopped.  He descended with agility and assisted Katniss before leading them to the large, imposing Justice Building.  “It is fortunate that the presiding magistrate is Monsieur Undersee.  He may be swayed to view our position favorably.”

 

“Why would he not?  We have done nothing wrong!” Katniss exclaimed.

 

“Indeed,” Darius said.  “But some magistrates are swayed less by the truth than other considerations.”

 

Katniss turned her head away, resuming the compulsive chewing of her lip.  Peeta happened to have a professional relationship with most of the magistrates, who could count on him to be impartial in the exercising of his duties. However, he could not be sure what kind of influence Crane had exerted to have an arrest warrant drawn up with such exaggerated accusations.

 

“Very well, then!” Darius said when the large Justice Building came into view. Peeta hoped that Katniss was comforted by the man’s optimism and took her hand, damp with sweat, between his own.

 

It took only a moment to reach the magistrate’s office. Entering into the chamber, Peeta was discouraged to see Crane already conversing with Jules Cray, a well-known counsel for the Crane family.  He feared the undue influence of the dastardly gentleman on the magistrate but was relieved to see the Judge Undersee had not made his appearance.

 

He was not surprised to feel Katniss stiffen at the sight of the man, a darkening of her features overtaking her compulsive worrying of earlier.  It changed her demeanor, made her more intimidating.

 

The magistrate entered the chamber, taking his seat on the raised dais where a large chair and an imposing desk had been situated. From this height, he opened his documents before adjusting his powdered wig and addressing the group of five people in the room.

 

“Very well, gentlemen. Madame. What is the nature of your complaint?” Undersee said with dry professionalism.

 

“It is a simple matter, your honor. Monsieur Crane has evidence that Capitaine Mellark’s slave conspired with his in the matter of his escape. He seeks 1000 livres for the loss of his slave and the maximum punishment against the slave for conspiracy,” Cray said at the opening of the hearing.

 

“A heavy charge. Please present the evidence.” Undersee asked.

 

“Magistrate, I would like to present into evidence a hand-drawn map of the jungle that was found abandoned among other possessions of the slave under question.  It is conjectured that this map was given to him by the prisoner.”

 

“And how are you able to ascertain that it belonged to the slave in question?” Monsieur Undersee asked, fingering the document carefully.

 

“Sir,” Cray turned the document over carefully, “there are markings on the back that, when studied carefully, note a signature that appears to spell “Rue,” the name of the slave in custody.”

 

“Do you mean to say that this slave can write?” Undersee probed with some disbelief.

 

“It is not fine script, as you can see,” he continued. “But the letters are certainly of her name.”

 

“Objection, sir,” Darius said. “Your honor, this is all highly circumstantial. There is no evidence that the slave can write, much less leave a signature on a document as incriminating as this one.  And why would the escaping slave leave a map outlining his escape behind in his quarters? Would he not have secured the means of his escape more carefully?”

 

Undersee nodded, turning the paper over and over. “Indeed, it is difficult to ascertain, on the basis of this evidence alone, that these two slaves would have indeed conspired to escape. Tell me, Monsieur Crane, did you not have other slaves escape that night?”

 

Peeta watched Katniss’s eyes bore into Crane, sending all of her hatred in that one glare. He never objectively wished harm on anyone but he now entertained fantasies of running him through, or worse, watching him quartered in the public square.

 

“Yes, sir. The infernal scheme was carried out by four slaves,” said Cray

 

“Your charges indicate she assisted in the escape of one slave, but not the other three. Yet they escaped together?  This map, therefore, could have been procured from any number of sources.”

 

“But the signature-” he protested.

 

“Is not conclusive, responded Undersee.

 

“Monsieur, I have further evidence!  Her very condition provides the motive for her assistance!” Crane said, his voice rising in pitch.

 

“Her condition?” Monsieur Undersee turned toward Darius.

 

“Yes, your honor, the slave is pregnant and it is Monsieur Crane’s assertion that the escaped slave is responsible for her condition,” Darius answered.

 

“You cannot contest that they met to dally with one another and the pregnancy is the result. Of course she would help him escape!” Crane said.

 

“Your honor,” Darius said slowly as Cray attempted to calm Crane. “Promiscuity is quite common among slaves. There is no way to ascertain the child’s parentage merely on the basis of a current arrangement.”

 

“ _Merde_!” Peeta heard Katniss hiss at Darius’s words. He could only imagine his wife’s disgust with this line of reasoning and the insinuation, particularly regarding one such as Rue.  However, he held his tongue, for every vile thing that Crane uttered sealed his resolve ever more.  Rue’s character - as with the character of most slaves - mattered little to the men and women who commanded them.  

 

“And would it not be more sensible, if she were carrying this slave’s child, for the slave to escape with her paramour, not simply assisting him while leaving herself and their child in bondage?” asked Undersee.

 

“She would not risk her child,” Cray answered.

 

Darius interjected. “This species - they are of sturdy and hardy stock.  They have been known to give birth in the middle of their work in the fields.  I doubt her condition would have been an encumbrance to escape, if she had chosen to do so, your honor.”

 

Monsieur Undersee rubbed his chin, considering the esquire’s words, asking several more questions for clarification before calling a brief recess to allow him to deliberate.  Katniss gripped Peeta’s hand until it went nearly numb from the pressure. “I can only pray that the magistrate will see the absurdity of Crane’s claims and act accordingly,” she said in a low voice.

 

Peeta nodded, whispering in return. “It is difficult to conceive of any other outcome but an acquittal.”

 

After returning from his private chambers, Undersee shuffled the papers before him.  “Monsieur Crane, I understand that you are suffering the economic loss of your slaves and wish for compensation at all costs. However, I have not heard sufficient evidence of your claim-”

 

“Sir!” Crane leapt to his feet. “It is not only the slave that must undergo scrutiny!  Not a fortnight ago, Capitaine Mellark presented an offer of purchase for the very same slave. Does it not pique your curiosity that these turn of events may be related?”

 

“A mere coincidence, your honor,” Peeta responded cooly.

 

“A mere coincidence?” Crane sputtered but was cut off by the magistrate.

 

“Capitaine Mellark, please elaborate on this offer of purchase.”

 

With impressive calm and equanimity, Peeta retold the details of the purchase. “The young man impressed me with his comportment. As a Capitaine, I value restraint and seriousness, qualities this young man possessed in abundance. But Monsieur Crane would not part with him and offered to sell me another slave.”

 

“And you turned me down! You wanted only that slave-”

 

“I have since acquired another slave, thank you sir,” Peeta said with savage politeness. “Besides the young man, I did not see any other specimens that reached my standard among your assets.”

 

Crane appeared to move in color from pink to purple.  “Would you add insult to your infamy, Capitaine?”

 

Peeta stood with a suddenness that sent Crane cowering back in his chair.  “I will not tolerate this gentleman’s insults any longer.  Monsieur Undersee, this is all a manipulation to harass my wife and me, for which scope, I will not speculate in good company. Neither I nor the young lady you have interned, on the flimsiest of evidence, have conspired in any way against the _good_ Monsieur Crane.  If we have erred in some way against the laws of this court, please dispense justice as you see fit. Otherwise, put an end to this _folie_ so that I may return to my duties.”

 

As his words had the desired effect of shocking his audience, he remained on his feet, awaiting the magistrate’s pleasure. Katniss stared up at him with open admiration but Peeta only saw black rage as he considered the insipid but defiant Crane.  He worked to repress the urge to put him out of his misery once and for all, not only for costing him his precious time but also for the unforgivable insult of desiring his wife so greatly, he would go to excessive lengths to put himself in her path.

 

“I see no need to prolong the proceedings any further. It is clear that Monsieur Crane suffers for the loss of property and the added suspicion of conspiracy. While I sympathize for your loss, I cannot lay blame for this in anyway, neither at Capitain Mellark’s feet nor a the feet of his slave.”

 

Crane’s face hardened while Katniss sat up, revived with hope that made her skin flush with rejuvenation.

 

“Thank you, sir,” Peeta said.

 

“However, to satisfy the affront of consorting without permission, and because the escaped slave is not present during these proceedings, a punishment of ten lashes shall be carried out against the slave in custody.”

 

“Infamy!” Katniss shouted, startling even the magistrate. “She did not act without permission! She has done nothing wrong!  Is Monsieur Crane so desperate for reparations of any kind that he would demand a penalty against the innocent?  This is barbarism!”

 

Undersee’s face darkened as Peeta grasped Katniss to him, attempting to quiet her anger. “I would thank you, _Capitaine_ , to command your wife to to hold her tongue. This case has commanded far too much of my time. Ten lashes, applied to her legs in deference to her condition, after which she will be remanded to your custody.  This is far less than the punishment demanded of Crane but it will have to do to satisfy all injured parties.  Case adjourned.”  The magistrate rose, bowed to the small company and exited the chambers behind him.

 

As soon as the heavy wood door of the chamber shut, Katniss whirled about and, with a speed that took Peeta by surprise, reached Crane and gave him a slap so hard, the reverberations echoed down the hall and into the next chambers.  Peeta raced quickly behind her, forestalling the two counsels from reaching her and held her back from a second attack. Crane, meanwhile, touched his cheek, now red with the finger marks Katniss had left behind.

 

“I know why you do this, why you continue to pursue every avenue to mortify me and my husband,” she hissed in a low voice that was barely above a whisper. “But my answer to you has been and ever will be, a most sincere and absolute no - no to your company, no to your friendship, no to the merest hint of an acquaintance! I will never accept any kind of communion with one such as you!”

 

“I see even a respectable marriage can not root out the vulgarity in your heart,” Crane said.  “I simply seek restitution for my losses.”

 

“Darius,” Peeta interjected,  “Please take Madame Mellark to the carriage. I wish to have a word with Monsieur Crane.”

 

Katniss protested, tugging against Darius’s hold but Peeta shook his head, imploring her with his eyes not to resist his will. “You should not sully yourself with one such as him, _ma perle_ ,” he whispered, his words already having a calming effect on her.  “Do you remember what I have sworn to you.”

 

She stilled her struggles, holding his gaze steadily before nodding.  “I remember.”  She straightened, shrugging of the hands that held her and, without a word, left the room with Darius.

 

Peeta turned to Monsieur Crane, who stood with his hand in his dress coat, fingers toying with what appeared to Peeta to be a watch chain. Though his entire stance was rigid, this small tick betrayed the man’s unease.

 

“Send your man away,” Peeta ordered.

 

Crane lifted his chin before casting a glance at Cray and nodding towards him, dismissing the man from the chambers. When Cray had gathered his effects and left the vaulted room, Crane gave his full attention to Peeta.

 

“I will not allow you to abuse me - ” Crane said but Peeta cut him off.

 

“Have no fear. I am not interested in throttling you - I leave that particular privilege to my wife.”  Peeta cast a surreptitious glance around the room before his gaze settled on Crane.  “The matter is this - I have suddenly become interested in import and export, particularly in the maintenance of trade regulations and customs.  I am particularly eager to see to your own merchandise and ensure its most intact movement on and off the ports of Le Cap.”

 

Crane paled. “You have duties elsewhere that you must surely attend to.”

 

Peeta gave him a smile both impeccable and predatorial. “It is your good fortune, sir, that I command a regiment and that I am well accustomed to the practice of delegation.  I will make it my personal responsibility to ensure that your merchandise receives the utmost scrutiny, preserving your honorable reputation as a businessman and a gentleman. It is the least I can do given your _peculiar_ interests in the affairs of my family.”

 

Pursing his lips, Crane managed to speak without sputtering, as he had done less than eloquently during the hearing. “You will not trifle with me. I will speak to the Commandante about this matter!”

 

“Which matter, sir?  The offer of my protection and consideration of your property and business interests?  I doubt Commandante Snow will see any offense.  On the contrary, he will reward my consideration for such an esteemed and well-regarded gentleman as yourself.”

 

Peeta was satisfied to see Crane’s Adam’s apple bob with agitation. It was good to remind the landowner and businessman why the Capitaine was called The Bloodhound of Le Cap.  It appeared, given the events of late, that the gentleman had conveniently forgotten.  With a flourish of indignation, Crane swept up his hat and made to stride past him but Peeta stepped to the side and brought his lips close to his ears.

 

“If you even so much as glance at my wife with anything but the utmost deference, you will wake to find your entrails dangling from the posts of your bed. Is that quite clear, sir?”

 

Crane gulped audibly, a terrible trembling overtaking his form as he pushed past Peeta and stormed out of the room, stumbling on the small step just beyond the doorjamb.  Meanwhile, Peeta took a steady, cleansing breath before adjusting his hat and, turning on his heel, followed the gentleman out of the room and directly to his personal carriage, where his wife and esquire awaited him.

 

**XXXXX**

 

**Katniss**

 

Katniss did not expect to feel so calm.

 

It was as if events unfolded before her through a watery glass - slow, shimmering, and full of a strange light that would not settle on any one object.

 

Rue was brought out, pulled along by her chains. She was remarkably clean and composed, given that she had spent the night in the famously squalid dungeon.  The only visible distress was the struggle Rue had with the light, which blinded her and caused her to stumble.  The guard stopped and instead of dragging her through the dirt, helped Rue onto her feet again.   _Even a lowly guard would be moved by her condition,_ she thought _, but not a magistrate_.  Annie and Johanna stood rigid besides Katniss, Johanna’s fist clenched white around her ax handle while Annie’s scowl was the darkest Katniss had ever seen on her gentle friend.

 

A few moments more were expended in attaching the chains of her wrist to the flogging pole.  Rue did not search the crowds, did not sob or struggle - indeed, she offered her wrists up willingly and closed her eyes when her petticoats were hitched above her waist behind her.  Katniss wished to close her eyes against  Rue’s bottom and legs, exposed to so many unfamiliar eyes but the sound of her blows alone would only make it all worse. And her friend deserved the dignity of her witness. It would feed her anger, her determination. For Crane would pay. Of this she was certain.

 

The wind sang with the first lash. It was then that Katniss woke from her stupor and remembered Peeta, felt his hand squeezing hers, for her sake and for his own. Rue remained eerily quiet and it was not until the third lash on her legs that she grunted.  On the second blow, Johanna began a rhythmic muttering in the forbidden tongue, the language of the Loas.  Annie glanced at her friend before she joined her muttering, the chant become clearer, more resolved with each snap of the belt.  Katniss swayed with the hypnotic cadence, fire rising up in her neck and throat as she listened to their words, and knew who they were invoking.

 

The forbidden one.

 

The feared one.

 

Erzuli Dantor. The dark aspect of Erzuli, the protector of wronged women and children. She was the incarnation of Erzuli as the Angel of Vengeance and Death.  The Loa of mothers whose children have been taken.  The Loa of raped women. The Loa of the betrayed.

 

With each blow, first under her breath and then, as the blows advanced, with more vehemence, Johanna chanted.  And like the force of love that seizes Katniss at the instant when she is united in body and spirit to her husband, so the spirit of the Lady of Perpetual Sorrow descended on her, filling her belly with a different kind of lust - lust for the taste of her enemy’s blood.  She would bathe in it, rise and climax to the gurgling sound of his destruction.  For in a moment of epiphany, she knew the manner of his death. And who would lay death at his feet.

 

And Katniss smiled.  

 

Without paying any heed to the small gathering of soldiers, jailers, even her own husband - her _Capitaine_ , together with the overflow of confusing, soul-encompassing love that she always felt for her conqueror warring with her hunger for destruction - Katniss took up the forbidden words with Johanna and Annie:

 

_Erzulie Dantor, strong and fierce!  Make magic for me!_

_Erzulie Dantor, wife of Ti-Jean, wife of Simbi Makaya, mother of a child, be my mother too!  Help me, protect me, fight for me!_

_Curse the architect of this injustice_

_Curse who would condemn our sister_

_A mother, like you._

_Curse and avenge the blood spilled this day._

_Erzulie Dantor, strong and fierce!  Make magic for her!_

_Erzulie Dantor, help her, protect her, fight for her!_

 

They cursed the proceedings. They cursed the cruel justice of the masters and landowners. Most of all, they cursed Seneca Crane, invoking the wrath of the Loa against him. And though Katniss had never heard the chant spoken aloud before, she knew every word, and her heart repeated the spirit of those words.  

 

Peeta watched his wife, his face full of both fear and wonder for the bird of fire who rose and rose and rose within her.  But he did not stop her and Katniss knew he never would. He had taken a vow of revenge and was bound to her in this also. Even if the language was different, vengeance was universal.

 

The welts were raised on Rue’s smooth flesh by the fifth lash and the penultimate blow broke skin, jewel-like blood running warm and slow over the tender, aching skin. There were tears but her face was as impassive as such pain would allow until, with relief, the final blow fell and Peeta was in motion, hurtling across the yard and up the daias, the ladies racing behind.  They covered her modesty and Peeta gathered her up into his arms, ignoring the warden, who tried to stop them for the sake of some bureaucratic exigency or other, and settled Rue into the carriage in a way that would be most comfortable.  Leaning against the window, she moaned in pain but it was her only complaint.

 

As Katniss listened to Rue’s whimpers and Annie’s low murmurs of comfort, her fog lifted completely.  She thought of her husband’s sword, the pistols men used to intimidate each other, the uniforms and medals they used to show their greatness.  She thought of those means and scoffed. The way of men. The way of the Conquerors. But not hers.

 

_We slaves solve things in our own way._

 

**XXXXX**

 

Despite her resolve, Katniss knew only misery in the days following Rue’s liberation. She tended the girl personally, with salves and pumices, designed to comfort and heal her broken skin. Annie visited daily with Finnick to clean and wrap her wounds. But it was not Rue’s physical injuries that tormented Katniss. When she gazed upon Rue in unguarded moments, it was evident that the girl pined for her lost love. Though she was stoic and never knowingly showed her unhappiness, Rue’s body betrayed her as it swelled with the growing child, a constant reminder of the father who had disappeared into the jungle. Now that child would be fatherless and Katniss could not help but blame herself for Rue’s misfortune.

 

The young slave never once showed reproached toward her mistress, neither in word or attitude. Such sweetness disarmed Katniss, making her more miserable at what she perceived was her own hand in Rue’s tragic destiny, leading to bouts of melancholy that brought to mind the days soon after her parent’s demise.

 

“You must not let the Capitaine see you in such despair!” Johanna admonished her as they worked in the garden.  

 

“What is marriage but that we can see one another in every light, even the most unfavorable?” Katniss asked wearily as she ground her herbs.

 

“Perhaps,” Johanna conceded. “But It does not benefit Rue either, to see your humor so downturned. She must bear up under so much and would do so more easily if we remember our normal routines. Let the balm of everyday life soothe this dark period for all of us.”

 

Katniss pursed her lips, but considered her friend’s admonition.  As the date of the ball approached, Katniss used it to distract herself from the ferocity of her self-loathing, made all the more acute by Rue’s attitude of complete forgiveness.  She did not particularly relish the aspect of befriending anyone for the purposes of espionage, as Peeta had suggested.  However, dwelling on the misfortune that had befallen Thresh and Rue made Katniss heartsick and she embraced the event of the ball to drown out the teaming voices of guilt in her mind.

 

**XXXXX**

 

The Mellark’s carriage came to a full stop before the lavish mansion of Mayordomo Heavensbee, waiting it’s turn as footmen assisted the genteel and well-to do occupants with their lavish dresses and costly suits from their compartments onto the compacted ground. The  entrance of the home was lit with lanterns that swung like the twinkling eyes of monkeys suspended in jungle branches in the fresh evening air.  

 

Peeta held Katniss’s hand, running gentle circles over her palm. She knew he had perceived her unease and searched for a way to calm her and for the upteenth time, Katniss wished she had the ease of self that her husband possessed in such abundance.  He was gregarious where she was aloof, calm when she was a-flutter, cool when she was overwhelmed with her own fiery temper.  At this moment, his equanimity would serve her well, for she had never been to a respectable ball in all her life.

 

Her eyes fell to his hand as he brought hers to his lips, leaving feather-like kisses along her knuckles, a move that refocused her mind, making her feel sharper and more determined than before. Peeta had been explicit in his description of his interview with Commandante Snow and the expectation that they befriend the Brutus Ogé and his wife, Ennobaria.  Katniss was indifferent to politics but wanted more than anything to please her husband.

 

“You will be the most beautiful woman of the evening,” Peeta said, to which Katniss raised her eyes to his, the blue swallowed by the pupil in the dim light of the carriage.  She wore Annie’s exquisite creation, her hair piled in curls on her head, threaded with pearls the color of her necklace, the first gift Peeta had ever given her. One lock of thick, dark hair curled possessively over her shoulder. “All eyes will be on you.”

 

“I am not greedy for the eyes of others,” Katniss said, attempting to remain light despite the weight of purpose of the evening. “I only care for the eyes of my most gallant husband.”

 

“Fear not, for you are in full and exclusive possession of those,” he parried, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

 

“How can you be so calm? Does your task not concern you?  I am weak with worry!” Katniss exclaimed.

 

Peeta’s face changed, becoming serious. “Katniss, you have only to be yourself, to be charming and lovely as you always are. The task of extracting information is mine and mine alone.”

 

“But Snow…”

 

“Snow is vanglorious and vulgar. He gave me an order and insinuated a use for you, by virtue of your heritage. But he does not order you about,” he smiled slowly, and Katniss could not help to smile in return. “I reserve that privilege only for myself.”  He was devilishly handsome this evening, with his dress uniform of blue and red, his white gloves crisp and clean.  She repressed the urge to run her fingers over the medals decorating his chest.  

 

“No, indeed,” she said, grateful for his comfort and hungry again for him. Her limitless desire for her husband sometimes overwhelmed her, as it threatened to do now.   “I have only one master.”  She leaned in towards him in silent entreaty and his response was to meet her at the halfway point between them, his lips scalding hers in that way only his lips could.

 

They were interrupted by the sudden opening of their carriage door.  Peeta stepped out first, turning to offer Katniss his hand.  With care for the sweeping folds of her lush, green dress, Katniss stepped down the wooden stairs and took her place on her husband’s arm. Peeta lead her to the entrance of the ballroom. It was cleverly constructed so that guests would reach it through the sculpted gardens on the east side of the premise housing the Mayordomo of Le Cap, elected by the city’s Assemble. Its current occupant was a particular lavish host, featuring only the most expensive entertainments and libations to satisfy even the most fastidious taste.  The windows of the long room faced out towards the sea, its elevated location ensured that it benefited from the sweeping gusts of wind from the ocean even on the warmest summer day.

 

Servants greeted the guests, offering to take coats and scarves, though the weather rarely demanded either. They were punctilious by the highest standards, indicating to their esteemed guests the way inside toward the ballroom.  Katniss’s eyes were blinded by the sheen of gold that appeared to cover every surface of the long dance hall.  Servants stood like silent guards along the outer perimeter of the room, ready to serve at a moment’s notice. Three large chandeliers hung suspended like sculpted ice over the heads of the guests, causing a shiver to race up Katniss’s spine. Each chandelier was the size of a horse-drawn carriage and she tried to ignore that she would be moving beneath them the evening long.

 

Peeta had ensured that they were neither the first nor the last guests to arrive, so when Katniss floated alongside him, the eyes that fell on them were not as overwhelming to her as they could have been.There was some murmuring but soon, Peeta stopped their progress when they came before the Mayordomo himself and his wife. Peeta bowed low while Katniss slipped into a most delicate curtsey.

 

“Ah, the Commandante was most gracious to invite you and your lovely bride.  Tell me,” Heavensbee asked by way of greeting, “have you attended a ball that was not, of course, a military one?”

 

“Monsieur, you may not be aware by my mother is a Cevigné twice removed,” Peeta answered.  “I am not completely unaccustomed to the ways of country court.”

 

“Interesting,” Madame Heavensbee purred, sizing up Katniss with a shrewd, narrow eye. Her own maroon - colored dress strained valiantly over her much larger size.  The folds were cleverly sewn to mask the various ripples and folds of her corpulent figure. “You have outdone yourself, Madame Mellark. If you require any assistance in….assimilating to this particular environment, you have only to seek me out.”

 

Katniss tipped her head in acknowledgement but bit her tongue, her pique rising quickly.  She had never had the dubious pleasure of the Madame Heavensbee’s husband - her standards were far too high to allow one such as the Mayordomo in her bed, with his sallow skin and long jowls. But he was well known among the docks for frequenting the costlier establishments with a penchant for petite blonds of a significantly smaller size than his wife.  Katniss smiled, her wicked spirit flooding her veins.

 

“Your coif is stupendously done.  You are quite fortunate, Mayordomo Heavensbee. Why, have you ever seen such perfect, golden locks on another?”

 

The slight tinting of Heavensbee’s rotund skin and cheeks were confirmation of his understanding. She smiled sweetly, holding his dull blue eyes in the grip of her fiery grey ones, silently daring him to defy her.  He bowed deeply in response to the veiled compliment, to the delight of his wife, who puffed her large bosom outward, tapping the shower of golden curls that fell over her dimpled shoulders.

 

“I must say I...have not,” Heavensbee nearly choked on his words, which deepened Katniss’s expression of satisfaction. A glance at Peeta told her he had noted the entendre, though he could not have understood precisely what the double meaning was.  But Peeta was no fool and followed his wife’s lead.

 

“Indeed, Madame, you are a vision, a fitting hostess for such lavish entertainment,” he added, bowing deeply before the hostess.

 

With that, the Mellarks moved away, leaving Madame Heavensbee with her ego puffed like a peacock’s feathers, while the Mayordomo seemed to choke on his own flesh.  Katniss took a deep, calming breath and tugged on Peeta’s arm. She had a low reputation and perhaps still missed the respectability demanded by this society, but, like Finnick, she had secrets and realized she possessed, among the wealthy and powerful attendees of this evening’s festivities, a most effective weapon of self-defense.

 

**XXXXX**

 

Katniss danced the first dance of the evening with her Capitaine - a minuet that took them around the room in a swish of fabric, green, white, red and blue.  When she glanced in the mirrors that lined the gilded room, she saw her happiness radiate from its reflection, a rebuke to the whispered comments that she heard around the room, mostly from the ladies, as the men did not want to fall under undue scrutiny.

If Peeta noticed the hushed conversations when Katniss came near, he did not remark on it, not to the speakers and certainly not to Katniss. He whirled her around the room, his eyes dark with admiration and naked desire for her. He was impeccable in his manners and cool in his comportment but with her, he dropped every pretense except his desire to be close to her. Katniss felt his steadiness envelope her like a shield, protecting her from every envious glance or uncharitable thought and for those moments, she was a sea spirit cocooned by the blue waters of the Mer du Nord, waters whose eyes were the color of her husband’s.

 

“That is Monsieur St. Germain. He is rumored to practice the black arts and keeps a personal houngan for his own rituals,” Katniss whispered as they swept across the ballroom floor.

 

“Does he?  My informants had not made me aware of this point,” Peeta said primly, though Katniss knew he thoroughly enjoyed the listening to the secrets she held of the most powerful members of Le Cap’s society.  

 

“They do not tell you such things because soldiers ignore all that does not conform to their view of the world.  They laugh at our priests and priestesses, like Mother Seeder, the beliefs of the island our outlaw them altogether.” Katniss looked up at Peeta and thought of her own vision, how it had made her sensitive to the Loas, if only for a secret desire to turn the tide of grief she had foreseen. “It is a grave mistake to do so.”

 

Peeta considered her with an inscrutable air, his mood altering slightly before the music came to an end. She allowed Peeta to twist her about with a flare of finality, capturing her small waist in his two large hands and just as mysteriously, recovered his good humor.

 

“I would dance the entire evening with you,” he exclaimed, his face now bright with pleasure.

 

“You have a fine command of the steps of courtly dance, _met mwen_ ,” she whispered in his ear, glad to be rid of the heaviness of only a few moments ago.  However, her flirtation was interrupted when she noticed all eyes in the hall turned in unison toward the entrance. There, in the gilded entryway stood a giant of a man, dressed in the latest Parisian fashion.  His posture erect, his gaze penetrating and ponderous, it swept over the multitude like an emperor taking account of his subjects. On his arm was tall, slender woman, dark hair of the same, nearly blue-black color as Katniss. Her features were fine, as if drawn by an artist.  Her olive color and wide, slanted eyes were the only features that intimated anything more exotic than a lovely lady of the French court.

 

Heavensbee made his way to the front of the gawking crowd and, together with his wife, bowed deeply, giving Brutus Ogé and his wife, Enobaria, an official welcome, after which the crowds relaxed. Conversation bubble up until everyone was distracted again.  Peeta took Katniss’s elbow and made his way in the direction of the gentleman and his wife, now chatting amiably with Commandante Snow.  Catching sight of the Captaine, Snow indicated towards him.

 

“Indeed, the voyage from the Americas to the Antilles can be most pleasant when the weather is favorable.  Monsieur Ogé,” he said with the authority of one for whom such a journey was simply a trifle and wished for all to know it. “I would like to introduce you to Capitaine Mellark, and his fair bride. They are only just recently married.”

 

Monsieur Ogé turned his attention to Peeta, who greeted him with a perfect bow.  Ogé returned his greeting before taking Katniss’s hand and leaving the lightest kiss on her knuckle, his lips barely making contact with her skin. He indicated to his wife, who curtseyed deeply before the couple. When she straightened, Katniss could not help but observe Madame Ogés surreptitious appraisal of Peeta, provoking Katniss’s deeper scrutiny.  

 

“My warmest congratulations on your union,” Ogé said.  “Your name - you are from the South, are you not?”

 

“I am, sir,” Peeta bowed his head in acknowledgement.

 

“Such fine manners for a soldier,” Madame Ogé practically purred.

 

Peeta chuckled, which provoked a desire in Katniss to smash the small fan she held against the lady’s finely-wrought face. Luckily, Commandante Snow was quick to respond.

 

“On the island, we do endeavor to maintain the high standards of the continent, preserving the manners and decorum that befit those of us who belong to the higher social classes.  It is our responsibility to resist the barbaric influences of the natives and slave class.”

 

“Are they inherently barbaric, Commandante, or have their manners not been destroyed by our interference with their island?” Monsieur Ogé said, sending Snow into a stunned silence. It was suddenly apparent to Katniss why Ogé could represent an element of consternation for the ruling class. He functioned well among them but was not afraid to speak his mind.  In addition, he used his physical presence as a point of influence, something that was not lost on the Commandante.

 

“There are very few remaining natives,”  Peeta said carefully, his face smooth and unresponsive. Katniss recognized the look as a mask for his true thoughts but he was considering each word that the men spoke.

 

“Would you presume to equate the quality of gentlemen and noblemen with that of a lowly slave or conquered peoples, Monsieur Ogé?” Snow said smoothly.  “There is more refinement in your lady’s lovely hands than on all the plantations of the West!”

 

“But there are, from those ranks, men who, under the influence of civilization, have risen in accomplishment and refinement.  Do they not deserve the same consideration as a Frenchman from the continent if their edification has been gained through positive influence and hard work?”

 

“Do you refer to the _affranchis_?” Peeta asked. “Such self-made men, many of them wealthy, educated and landowners in their own right do represent an interesting situation.”

 

Snow chuckled, raising his glass of punch. “That is a matter to be decided by the Assemblee. Today, you will demand equality for the _affranchis_ , tomorrow, they will demand freedom for the plantation slaves. Such emancipation would lead to the destruction of our society.”  He lowered his glass. “This is not Paris, Monsieur. Your powers of persuasion will be sorely tested.”

 

Master Ogé made to respond but was interrupted by Monsieur Heavensbee. “Politics, politics! Nothing will be resolved tonight. Let us dance instead!”

 

Ogé dipped his head toward Peeta. “It would be my great honor to reserve a dance with your lovely wife, Capitaine.”

 

“Only if I may return the courtesy and take the lady for a turn,” Peeta answered, with perfect politeness, tipping his head in acknowledgement towards Madame Ogé. Katniss was dismayed at the utter delight on the woman’s face and wondered if perhaps conventions on the continent different with respect to a lady’s comportment in the company of her own husband.

 

“You are not French?” Ogé asked Katniss as soon as the music set them in motion.

 

“I am a subject of France but I am born on the island. My father was a Frenchman, newly settled on the island when he met my mother,” she said.  

 

“I see it in your face,” he said, his blue eyes studying her every feature. “You are like Enobaria. You would pass for a Frenchwoman but for the hints of your origins.  Only a well-practiced eye can detect it,” he nodded in approval as he took her hand and gently spun her around. When he drew her back to him, he continued, “In a society such as this one...your Capitaine must have desired you greatly.”

 

Katniss blushed, feeling like an ocean specimen under the scrutiny of a naturalist.  “He is a man of great principals and lives his life according to those. He is - immune - to society’s censure.”

 

Ogé smiled at her, a sincere one that transformed his face, making him less aloof. “A good man.  A rare and wonderful thing. It would bring me great pleasure to deepen our acquaintance.”

 

Katniss nodded, finding the opening that she needed. “It would be an honor, Monsieur. I will send a messenger with an official invitation but I would be pleased to invite you to dine with us on the morrow, if you are at liberty to do so.”

 

“I fear the Commandante has claimed our company but I would like to propose another day, by messenger, when you are not engaged,” he said. Katniss agreed to this and spent several minutes, more delighted than she intended by her charming companion who was so feared by the Commandante.  

 

They spoke of inconsequentials, the music ending on Ogés last word. He bowed deeply before taking Katniss by the elbow and leading her to where Peeta waited, listening to Enobaria speak with him.  Katniss noticed how close she she stood, her hand resting on her husband’s elbow as if she would sweep him back out onto the dance floor again.

 

Katniss cleared her throat and spoke, perhaps too loudly, “Your husband is a most talented dancer,” she curtseyed deeply before taking Peeta’s arm and unbecomingly pulling him away from the clutches of the overly interested Madame Ogé.

 

“As is yours,” Enobaria said breathlessly. “You are quite fortunate!”

 

After a few more pleasantries, Peeta led Katniss in another dance, forestalling a pair of gentlemen who appeared intent in asking to dance with Madame Mellark.

 

“I am prepared to behave indecorously by dancing with you as much as I can tonight,” Peeta said when the music began, drowning out their conversation from the ears of those surrounding them.  “Your suitors will simply have to wait.”

 

“I only wish I desired to enforce society’s dictate but I wish for nothing more than my husband’s company,” she said, “though Madame Ogé may impatiently await another turn or two with you before the evening is ended.”

 

Peeta chuckled, stepping with the music and circling around her before facing her again. “Is that so?”

 

“It is!  I saw with my own eyes her eagerness to be near you. You underestimate your effect on others.”

 

“I doubt it is nothing more than the uniform and my limited earthly influence.  Women respond to power,” he pulled her to him and held her longer than necessary with the change of the music. “Only you are immune to such things.”

 

“That is because, to me, you are more than your uniform or your position, as you have always been,” Katniss said with more feeling than she intended. “Anyone who has an eye for quality perceives your worth. Monsieur Ogé said so much himself.”

 

“He appeared quite enchanted with your company,” Peeta teased.

 

“We spoke only of you,” Katniss said quickly. “We will dine with the Ogés soon. I have procured his commitment.”

 

“You have? Well done!  He will be the most socially engaged personage in the entire island in this period. Though to me, there is no great mystery about him. He is an emancipationist, if only for the _affranchis_. Were it not for the matter of the large withdrawal and his journey to North Carolina, he would be of no more consequence than any of a hundred emancipationists from the Continent.”

 

“Indeed,” Katniss said, lapsing into silence. She scanned the room as they danced, taking in the moving bodies. Soon, she would dance with others, as decorum dictated. But there was one personage she was sure would not approach her. Monsieur Crane stood at the far end of the ballroom, speaking with acquaintances, his eyes all the while following Katniss’s every move. She longed to make her way to him and insult him on the matter of Rue and Thresh, the mere reminder of which made her weak with unhappiness.  But a glance at Peeta’s flushed cheeks and eyes bright with happiness and she suppressed the urge. She would not visit unpleasantness or impropriety onto her husband. After so much recent heartache, he deserved the serenity of a night filled with entertainments, music and dance. She simply watched as a prey watches a predator, each engaged in their own dance, the day comes when their paths overlap and one is forced, once and for all, to become victorious over the other.  

 

**XXXXX**

 

**Peeta**

 

The revels and entertainments of Heavensbee’s ball kept Katniss and Peeta occupied well into the night. Morning found them undressing in their bedroom, which brightened with the arrival of day.  He was grateful that it was Sunday and the would be able to take his rest with Katniss for as long as he liked. The stresses of the last weeks had left her in such a state that she shied away from that intimacy that brought such pleasure to both of them.

 

But after an evening of dancing and revels, Ogé notwithstanding, Peeta felt lighter than he had in many days. The displeasure of Thresh’s capture and release, Rue’s internment the confirmation that Crane was and would be, an antagonist in their lives - all these considerations fell away before the vision of his lady in the simple act of attending to her toilette.  It was no longer only her beauty which brought him such joy but, ever more, her character and steadfastness. In a short time, she had become, not only his lover, but also his friend, the person to whom he longed to share his burdens, shore up his troubles and exchange impressions of the ever changing world as it presented itself to him.  He knew he was in love with her in a way that defied every explanation - he wanted at the once to pet her as a kitten and plow her until her shouts of pleasure made her husky voice raw with exhaustion.

 

Instead of waking Rue, Peeta helped Katniss with her dress, undoing the ties that held the shape of her lovely dress.  She had been extraordinary sheer arms and fully embroidered bodice created a vision of deep green that stood out amongst the sea of pink ruffles and ivory laces of the other ladies in the room. He cared very little for fashion, but the uniqueness of the dress highlighted Katniss’s own rarity amongst the company of so many women.

 

He reclined in bed, his muscles worn but resisting sleep.  Katniss worked methodically on her preparations, glancing at him as she removed the last of her petticoats. Naked, she opened the shutters, flooding the bedroom with the golden glow of the rising sun hanging suspended over the sea.  She grasped a pitcher and poured water into a porcelain wash basin that sat on a small table on the balcony.  From a bowl, she fetched a lemon, cutting it carefully. As the aroma of the fruit drifted in the air, Katniss squeezed both halves into the basin before dropping the expended pieces in the water.  Feigning complete obliviousness towards the hungry manner in which Peeta watched her, she smoothed the towel, drenched in lemon water, beginning with her swan-like neck and smoothing it over her shoulders and arms.  

 

With hands like a soft lover, she bathed her chest, breasts and stomach, droplets tracing a magnetic path over the gentle swell of her belly and disappearing further down. Peeta panted when she lifted her leg to pass the towel over the smooth muscles, pausing to return his gaze as she bathed the inside of her thighs with the fragrant liquid. Peeta would have performed any kind of magic to be that small, inconsequential but privileged square of cloth which she drowned again and again in the lemon water, making thorough work of her most intimate places. When she was done, she placed the basin on the floor of the balcony, beneath the table, to be dispensed with later.

 

He watched her openly, not bothering with discretion as she made her way to their bed, her sinewy body a concert of elegant, symmetrical beauty. There were no imperfections on her skin, her breasts were proud and even. Her hips were dimpled and flowed into long limbs that moved with the grace of a dancer and he longed only to drown between those magnificent legs.

 

Katniss smiled at his scrutiny, though there was a wildness in her eyes that belied her frivolity.  She crawled to where he reclined against the ample pillows of their bed, her perfectly rounded bottom rising and falling with her slow movements, the smell of lemons suffusing his senses. “My _Capitaine_ , my husband, how they cower before you.”

 

“Hardly,” Peeta whispered, his breath failing him though he tried with all his might to gulp the citrus air. He waited for her, pining for her skin, long withheld from him by the treacherous events of late.  Her slow approach made his every muscle twitch with his need to touch her.

 

“How all tremble in fear before your might,” she continued, straddling his hips, careful to avoid touching his erection, which only served to make his agony for her more acute.  She lowered her lips and left a kiss on his chest, his shoulder, his neck, provoking a near physical pain of longing in his loins that was only incensed further by the smell of lemons. “Tell me that only I command you. Tell me you belong only to me.”

 

His blood became flooded with a burning fever, knowing that she was still caught in the grip of her jealousy of Enobaria. “I am forever at your mercy. My every thought is consumed with keeping you near, for of the both of us, you are the one who can survive without me.”  Peeta straightened, gripping her arms, the levity of the moment wiped away with his words. “Without you, I have no life, no purpose, no one who truly needs me.”

 

The slight madness in Katniss’s eyes gave way to fear. “No, Peeta. I do. I need you.” She flung her arms around his neck, whispering into his skin so that he had to strain to hear her.  “I have always protected my heart, for I never desired my mother’s fate. I did not wish to be crippled by love and become weak. Her love for my father drove her to her death.”

 

She pulled back, her every pretense of strength stripped away. “But Mother Seeder was right. Erzuli is the force of life. She is the joy and pain of love and I have become her victim. I am my mother, Peeta. I cannot lose you, for surely, I will perish as she did!”

 

“You will not lose me!” he said, laughing.  “I am here and there is nothing on this earth that will keep me from you. No woman,” he kissed her, remembering the way she’d glared at Enobaria Ogés attentions, her barely disguised rage at the other woman’s desire. “No man.  No army or human intervention will tear me away from you. No matter what happens, I will always find my way back to you.”

 

Katniss tilted her head, her eyes gentler, less terrified than before. “Is that a promise, Capitaine?”

 

“It is my most fervent vow,” he said.

 

She leaned in, savoring the taste of his lips with her wicked tongue, which licked and teased him till he groaned out loud. “I will hold you to that.”

 

With that, she shifted her hips and with one, smooth motion, sank over his shaft, her fear and confession preparing her body in a way his most devout attentions could not.  She kissed him feverishly, rolling her hips over him in that way she discovered made him mad with want.  Though she used the carefully cultivated arts of her body, she would bind him to her through means more spiritual than physical. She had glimpsed too soon the evidence of his departure and lived with the seed of premonition devouring her heart.  She took joy and pleasure from him as she rode him, memorizing the aroma of his skin, hair, the very physicality of him, his whispered words and moans of delight. But she acted under the shadow of impending loss. She had seen the future but would hoped she would also see his vow fulfilled, for Peeta was terribly mistaken. If something were to befall him, she would not be strong enough to endure it.

 

They spent the remainder of the day in bed, at turns sleeping and finding pleasure in each other, healing each other from the travails and intrigues of the last weeks in the way they best knew how.  Johanna brought their meals to their room, with a _tsk-tsk_ and a laughing shake of her head at their audacity at behaving as if they were newly affianced. But if they noticed her mock condemnation, they did not remark on it. In fact, the world beyond their bed was but a mere inconvenience intruding on an island that contained only the two of them.

 

**XXXXX**

 

**Sorry for the length of the Author’s Note.**

 

**The first line of this fic is a homage to one of my favorite fics ever, The Colour of Heartbreak by[alatarielgildaen](alatarielgildaen.tumblr.com). If you have never read it, do so. It is breathtaking!**

 

**As the story progresses, there will be more Voodoo present.  I know that Voodoo has a reputation for being dangerous and evil and certainly, there is truth to some of its aspects (doesn’t Christianity have Satan and the Book of Revelation?). But Voodoo is an actual religion. And it is truly the religion of the resilient. It is an amalgamation of African beliefs brought by slaves during the colonization of Saint Domingue and each aspect was born of a reality in which humans were treated like chattle. So there is love and explanations of the universe but there is also a fierce effort to render human individuals who have had their humanity questioned and taken from them. The Haitian Slave Revolt is closely tied to Voodoo, for it provided the cohesion required to unite slaves from so many disparate backgrounds for the common purpose of obtaining freedom. The importance of Voodoo cannot be underestimated.**

 

**I employ as much research as possible as I do not want to be disrespectful of the practices of Voodoo.  So if I get something wrong, please know it is done inadvertently.**

 

**Erzuli has several incarnations and though Voodoo is not a syncretic religion to the same degree as other religions in the Caribbean, it does borrow from Catholic imagery. Erzuli Dantor, the focus Loa for this chapter, is identified with The Lady of Perpetual Sorrow, the incarnation of the Virgin Mary in mourning.  I have discussed Erzuli’s incarnations in a previous author’s note but it is worth repeating that I am only worried about the four major ones: Erzuli, Erzuli Freda, Erzuli Dantor and La Sirena.**

 

**A small note on ballroom etiquette: it was customary for the host to greet all guests.  Guests of a somewhat lower social standing were generally invited by someone in the upper classes (Commandante Snow inviting Peeta is an example of this) and would not have been invited for their own sakes. Couples were expected to dance with others for most of the night (hence Peeta claiming that, though indecorous, he would endeavor to dance with Katniss as much as possible). A successful ball would have lasted the entire night.**

 

**Many thanks to my prereaders, @thegirlfromoverthepond and @akai-echo. They are not only prereaders but  my friends. @thegirlfromoverthepond, in particular, makes sure my French is not horrible and my facts of French court are not grossly incorrect. @akai-echo has made a splendid aesthetic that I am linking[here](http://akai-echo.tumblr.com/post/146419789436/from-that-first-glance-peeta-mellark-knew-that). Please take the opportunity to look at it. It is truly one of the most beautiful edits I have ever had the pleasure of receiving. Be sure to head over to her tumblr and let her know how amazing she is.  She has been so instrumental in motivating me and keeping my focus on this story.  Sometimes, interest in one’s own work can flag but her enthusiasm and feedback have been essential in the continuation of this fic.  Thank you, friends!**

 

**Finally, many thanks to @loving-mellark, @ghtlovesthg  and @wwrebel992 for the amazing banners!**

 


	13. The Wheel of History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to thank so many people for this chapter. I must begin with my most amazing beta, @eala-musings. This chapter was twice the length and at least that much denser. She made major suggestions for deep cutting and patiently reread the post surgery results. This can also be said of @thegirlfromoverthepond, who suggested other major changes that also resulted in some deep revisions. This is what a writer dreams of - good, honest feedback. And the chapter is so much better for it.  I have to thank @everllarkingnewtina who also gave it a go and gave me great feedback that I used. And, of course, @akai-echo, who is the most supportive person of my work. No matter what I write, she always cheers me on! Thank you, my friend.

 

**_In vain I pray the hours to linger on_ **

**_And Time slips into flight._ **

**_I tell this night: "Be slower!" and the dawn_ **

**_Undoes the raveled night._ **

 

**_Let's love, then! Love, and feel while feel we can_ **

**_The moment on its run._ **

**_There is no shore of Time, no port of Man._ **

**_It flows, and we go on._ **

  
  


**From** **_The Lake_ ** **by Alphonse de Lamartin; Translated by A.Z. Foreman**

 

**November, 1791**

Dinner with the  _ Ogè _ s was acknowledged as a successful affair by all participants. Katniss’s brilliant management of the evening, and the superior meal, assured that the Mellark’s would impress upon the Ogè’s the refinement of their association. Peeta had invited the Odairs, in deference to their own political inclinations and because he had never found anyone to be as pleasant in conversation as his friend.  Peeta was always aware that Finnick was curious about Ogè’s position with regard to a cause he held so dear and sought out the association of any emancipationists who shared his views.

The meal unfurled under polite, philosophical discussions and mild gossip of the island’s personages. Peeta did not miss the surreptitious glances that Katniss cast his way, looks full of meaning and a certain humor regarding their mixed company even as she patiently held forth with Annie on more frivolous topics presented by Enobaria such as the latest fashion and the dreadful quality of the local sugar. But it was not lost on Peeta that Finnick and Ogè, in particular, had fallen into a soft contest of intellectual reasoning, each man striving for dominance while Peeta presided diplomatically over them.

“I am of the very same mind as the  _ Capitaine _ ,” Enobaria purred repeatedly at Peeta’s pronouncements regarding any number of topics, no matter how uninformed she was on the matter under discussion. Her obsequious attentions towards Peeta achieved the perfectly calculated effect of turning Katniss’s clear, grey eyes to a stormy slate, a reaction that Peeta did not find altogether unpleasant.  Enobaria wore her long, ebony locks curled in the latest fashion, her long neck shown to favorable light, and paired this effect with a dress of such decolletage, it left very little to the imagination. Madame Ogè was a naturally flirtatious woman, a quality that her husband appeared pleased to encourage, but this particular detail of her character found no purchase with Katniss. Madame Mellark barely tolerated the woman’s attention towards Peeta and only good manners and her natural reserve of character kept her from acting on her impulses towards the lady.  Peeta was certain she would require assurances that he would gladly give her in their bed this night, the idea of which nearly wiped all topics of conversation completely out of his mind.

“What must be celebrated,” Annie interjected sweetly, distracting Peeta from his ungentlemanly thoughts, “is the exquisite quality of this dinner. Katniss, your cook has outdone herself. Everything was matched perfectly and presented so finely, I feared to touch my plate, lest I disrupt the perfect arrangement.  My compliments to you!”

Everyone at the table raised their glass to Katniss, who blushed becomingly at the attention.  Peeta was proud of her but not surprise. He had long been accustomed to the idea that Katniss was capable of doing anything she set out to do.

**XXXXX**

When the meal ended, the ladies took their leave to play cards in the salon while the gentlemen retired to the study. There, the men enjoyed a warmed cognac and pipe next to the open window of the veranda.  

Ogè wasted no time in stating the purpose of his journey. “I will present a motion to the Assembly to grant voting rights to the  _ affranchis _ , in accordance with the legal position that their brethren hold on the Continent.”

“I fear you will meet with little success,” Peeta said bluntly.

“It is unconscionable that emancipated men are free to vote in France, but are denied this very same right in a French colony!” Ogè responded.

“The vile institution of slavery is outlawed in France yet is the very raison d’être of the colonies,” Finnick agreed with vehemence.

“I agree that the moral position of the landowners in the Assembly is weakened by France’s emancipation decree,” Peeta said. “The population is not unaware of these facts, much as landowners wish to hide this reality from their slaves.  But a petition on behalf of the affranchis would be of limited benefit to the majority of slaves.”

“Would you not deem the emancipation of the landed classes to be a fortuitous development in pursuit of universal freedom?” Ogè added, nodding to the servant who set the warm cognac before them.

Peeta nodded. “Yes, but as a  _ Capitaine _ sworn to maintain the peace, my greatest concern on this matter is the eventual consequence on the population. What does it mean if only the  _ affranchis _ are given equal rights? Many own plantations and are in possession of slaves themselves. What incentive do they have to extend the fortunate condition of representation onto the less fortunate slaves in the fields?” Peeta asked.

“Indeed,” Finnick agreed. “Such half-measures as these do nothing to alleviate the misery of the population. If men of money and power do not agitate on behalf of the laborers in the field, their anger will continue to grow.” Finnick leaned forward in his chair as he continued. “There have already been attempted uprisings. The French and  _ petit blancs _ are the minority on this island and the only thing that keeps the anger of the downtrodden population from overrunning us is because they have not been rallied to the call of freedom.  But give them that symbol, that one man...”  Finnick trailed off meaningfully.

Oge tugged at the edge of his vest, eyeing both men as they spoke. “I believe I may have...inducements...that will motivate the Assembly.  You think very poorly of the  _ affranchis _ , gentlemen!” he said, sniffing at the amber liquid and raised it in approval towards Peeta before taking a sip.

“The  _ affranchis _ would withhold the very freedom they seek from those poor souls who toil on the plantations, for when there is a question of wealth, I doubt they will have any more interest in true emancipation than their white counterparts.”  Peeta stared at the amber liquid, swirling it absently as he his thoughts flew to Katniss. “I fear this betrayal will only incite a violent revolution, a consequence that must be avoided at all costs. Emancipation must be achieved through just and peaceful means.”

“Which I propose with a petition to the Assembly.” Brutus said, eyeing Peeta intently, giving him the sensation that he was being assessed and had been found to be satisfactory. At length, he spoke again. “ _ Capitaine _ , I feel that I have found companions of like-mindedness on this matter of emancipation in the person of you and your friend, Dr. Odair.”

“I am quite vocal on the nature of my political inclinations,” Finnick said. “The  _ Capitaine _ , however, has arrived by his position more slowly, under the influence of, shall we say, more personal experiences that have altered his convictions.”

Peeta nodded, saying nothing. He had hoped for an opportunity to garner more concrete information from Ogè, which appeared to present itself at this very juncture. However, he had not anticipated the conflict he now felt between the positions debated earlier and his obligations to Snow and the French Army.  This sudden inability to focus on the purpose of the evening gave him pause, so he instead strived to, listen to what the gentleman would say instead.

“If there is one thing the Americans have gifted the world, it is this,” Ogè began, staring at his glass, then at both men, as if they were all of equal interest to him. “There are times when, to alter the course of human events, it is necessary to act beyond the limits imposed by the law.”

“You allude to the letter to King George, sent by the American rebels?” Peeta said.

“Yes.” Ogè’ said simply.  “Do you recall it’s details?”

Peeta nodded solemnly, setting his glass down.  “My memory is not what it once one, gentlemen,” he smiled before he wracked his brain.  _ “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights--” _

Ogè leaned forward and picked up Peeta’s thread.  _ “That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute a new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.” _

Finnick looked from Peeta to Ogè. “What these good men suggested in their time was considered treason.”

“To the oppressor, perhaps” Ogè answered, holding Peeta’s gaze. “But to the oppressed, it is justice.”

The silence hung heavy in the air between the three men. There was no questions - Ogè was not speaking in terms of rhetoric and philosophy.  He had issued an invitation.  And it struck Peeta with the force of an epiphany that Ogè was no statesman either. He was not a gentleman agitating for the equal rights of the landed men of color in Le Cap.

He presented his petition precisely because he knew it would fail. All of their arguments and discussion this evening had been for naught, for Ogè’s ambitions were greater than earning voting rights for a handful of privileged free-men.

Ogè was a revolutionary.

From the gleam in his eyes, Peeta was convinced that we would just as soon see the world set afire than see his vision go unrealized.

**XXXXXX**

When the Ogès and the Odairs finally took their leave, Peeta retreated to the veranda, stuffing and lighting his pipe again, though he was not given to smoking as a habit.  He replayed the conversation at dinner over and over in his mind, finding no other interpretation than the one he had arrived at when he first listened to Ogè’s words. Peeta’s course of action at this point was unclear and he pondered the various possibilities.  It took nearly half an hour but Katniss finally joined him, the swishing of her skirts and the smell of lemon and flowers announcing her arrival.  She settled into the divan next to him, tucking her feet up under the pillows as she leaned into his chest.

“ _ Ma perle _ ,” he whispered, a billow of smoke curling from his lips at the mention of her pet name.

“ _ Mon ami _ ,” she said, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.  A slight tremor shook her frame but her warm skin indicated it was not a chill that made her shiver. Her very presence quieted his thoughts and stilled his preoccupations, making the heaviness of his thoughts dissipate into insubstantiality, like the smoke from his pipe. They sat together in that way for a long while before she tilted her head upwards to look at him. “I hate Madame Enobaria Ogè.”

Peeta laughed suddenly, causing him to inhale a mouthful of smoke and provoking a fit of coughing that forced Katniss to sit up from her reclined position.

“I am so sorry!” she exclaimed as she clapped him in the back. She lept up and fetched the water that was always waiting in a pitcher on the side board, giving it to him in sips.

“Katniss,” he said between spasms of coughing. “To...to what…benefit...do you...injure the object....of your...adoration?”

“It was not my intent!  My apologies!” she said as his coughs subsided.

Peeta wiped his eyes, which had teared from the force of his physical distress. “Do not fret. I am of too stout a constitution that smoke should so unman me.”

“Oh, vicious jealousy!  I should have liked to choke the slut a thousand times on pipe smoke or stuffed the peacock feathers of her bosom into the kitchen ovens!” Katniss exclaimed, provoking another bout of coughing laughter from Peeta.

“There is no grace she possesses that you do not magnify a thousand fold in your person,” he said, pulling her onto his lap. She scowled in displeasure, her anger rendering her more, not less, desireable in his eyes.

“And yet would she cast even the meager crumbs of her charms upon you at every turn, even in the presence of her husband!” she spat angrily. “Why, had I my father’s bow and arrow, I would have run her through on the spot, together with her vulgar decolletage and insipid husband!”

Peeta gathered his wife, aflame with anger and jealousy, into his arms, running the tip of his nose along her exposed shoulders. “It is fortunate, then, that you do not have such a weapon close by. Truth be told,” he said, leaving a path of kisses over the skin of her overheated neck, “Your jealousy does nothing but incite me to possess you and remind you yet again that no woman can take the place of you.”

Katniss nearly purred, angling her neck to expose more skin to his wandering lips. “I will not excuse myself,” she said as his hands, which rested demurely on her hips, drifted downward, seeking to touch her through the layers of ruffles and petticoats. “She is a very disrespectful woman. And a man who allows his woman to present herself as such is no better than she is,” she said, though her indignation was punctuated by gasps of breathlessness as she struggled to speak under the spell of his ministrations.  He raised her skirts and placed his hand where they would be of more service to her pleasure.

“Do not fear,” Peeta whispered as his fingers found what they sought in her wet warmth,  “I can scarcely tolerate the thought of a man looking upon you. I would never endure your flirtations before my eyes.”  Katniss whimpered as his fingers found purchase, diving and dancing between her petals like a hummingbird seeking nectar from a rose.  “You are mine and I am yours - anything else is inconceivable.”

“Yes,” she whispered, gyrating her hips in time with his fingers. His lips caught hers unawares, so lost was she in her pleasure. Peeta watched the flush of her dark skin and her breath as it became increasingly ragged, forcing her perfect breast to strain angrily against the strictures of her bodice. When he looked into her eyes, they were the same rare color of slate, the stormy pleasure of her arousal darkening them.

“You are magnificent,” he gasped, watching her rise beneath his touch. He kissed her as she neared her peak, words in her language muffled and crushed against his lips.  Her pleasure made him hard within the now unbearably tight environment of his britches and he longed to open them and free his sex from its torture.

Katniss’s back bowed as she convulsed around his fingers, the waves of pleasure clamping around him. He longed to feel her wetness on his cock.  As her whimpers subsided, Peeta tore off his jacket and ripped open his britches. In a flurry of petticoats and disheveled clothing, with relief, he sank into her waiting heat, entangled in a sea of skirt and lace until Katniss’s laughter pierced the veil of his hunger.

“Peeta! Stop!” she said between gasps of both pleasure and humor.  “I cannot…my skirt…it is as if you wear it…”

Her laughter invaded his lustful stupor and he could not help but blush as he laughed along with her. “I am too eager...”

She sat up, pulling his face to hers to kiss him.  “Be gallant, and take me to our bed, where we can have our pleasure without becoming strangled in fabric.”

Peeta pulled her to her feet, adjusting their clothes for the sake of any servants who might still be awake. When Katniss was presentable, he picked her up, eliciting a squeal of surprise.

“You did beseech me to be gallant,” he whispered as he held her close to him, for despite the levity, he teetered on the edge of taking her on the floor of the veranda.  So he was unprepared for the way Katniss brought him up short, gazing into his eyes with sudden intensity.

 

“You are gallant, my love. You are the bravest, most gallant man I have ever known.  I know the Loas favor me, for I belong entirely to you.”

Peeta paused to admire his  _ perle _ , rendered speechless by her words. Having been robbed of every form of expression, he kissed her instead before setting out to show her how very happy he was that he belonged to her also.

**XXXXXX**

A night in Katniss’s arms was enough to chase all thought from Peeta’s mind, allowing him to find rest. But when he returned to the barracks the very next day, the conversation of the evening before began to weigh heavily on him as he continued his investigations regarding Ogè.  It was a matter that currently engaged a number of his officers. Thus far, however, either Ogè was a common windbag or he had found methods most obscure to conduct his affairs.  After another fruitless series of interviews with several of his contacts, he prepared to ride out to the pier on the pretense of visiting Crane’s warehouse when a knock on the door interrupted in preparations.  Peeta bade the visitor to enter.

“Capitaine, sir!” Lieutenant Mitchell entered the room, saluting him as was required by their rank.  

“At ease, Mitchell. What do you have?” Peeta said, indicating that his trusted officer take the seat across from him, encouraging the young man to speak.

“Yes, sir, it is in reference to Brutus Ogè.”

This made Peeta sit up straight in his seat.  “Go on.”

“We were able to ascertain a series of meetings between one of his men and a Spanish wine trader by the surname of Julian Maria de la Cruz.”

Peeta rubbed his chin, trying to recall the personage. “A familiar name.  What of it?”

Mitchell leaned forward.  “It would have been nothing of consequence, but it is well known that the trader will visit an expensive brothel in the north wharf of the Lyonnes district when he conducts a particularly lucrative exchange.”  Mitchell leaned forward with an air of a conspirator.  

“It is not uncommon for Spaniards to be excessive with their entertainments,” Peeta said, wrinkling his nose from the memory of other such encounters.

“My agents have revealed a tendency towards the indiscrete in this gentleman, particularly when he is drunk, which he was on the evening of his meeting with a man of Monsieur Ogè’s retinue.”

“And what might have been the recent inspiration for his debaucheries?” Peeta asked, growing ever more intrigued.

“Those same connections recall overhearing de la Cruz boasting of a recent large sale of Spanish muskets and arms to a Frenchman from the Continent. Though he did not name the gentleman explicitly, we suspect that he was referring to Monsieur Ogè’s man, as my contacts have assured me that he had not been in communication with any other Continental Frenchman for the purposes of conducting business in this period.”

“But he did not provide a name?” Peeta asked but it was rhetorical.  These interactions tended to be conducted with some degree of anonymity.  It was an important piece of intelligence but not definitive enough to implicate Ogè in any wrongdoing.  For a normal citizen, it would be enough to call him in for interrogation, and under duress, the man might be prevailed upon to confess.  However, with a personage as politically connected as Ogè, definitive evidence would be required. “I would like to confirm this information with a further contact I have in the area.”  Peeta said.  “Your objective now is to discover the identity of the man who made the purchase of weapons and his connection to Ogè. Report back to me immediately, do you understand?”

“Yes,  _ Capitaine _ !” Mitchell said.

Peeta rose suddenly, forcing Mitchell to take to his feet also, before saluting him. “You have acquitted yourself well, Lieutenant.  I will see that you are well rewarded.”

Lieutenant Mitchell flushed with pride, saluting in acknowledgement before he left Peeta to his own thoughts, which were more conflicted and turbulent than the Lieutenant could have ever guessed under his veneer of impassivity.

The prospect of anyone taking up arms against the government in Le Cap would have been a distressing one, but not shocking in the least. Peeta knew these were turbulent times, where the government could not be assured, as the recent establishment of the republic in France and the American rebellion had convincingly demonstrated.  Island life could be even more unstable, as the population had moments in which they reacted to their oppression with acts of rebellion both large and small. He thought of the poisoning of the water supply in Le Cap several years earlier and how many residents had become ill from this scheme. It would only require but a scintilla to create the conflagration that would test the strength of the army.

And yet, who was he to interfere with the right of a people to seek their freedom in any way they could?

Peeta took to his horse, riding hard, not towards the docks, but to the hills that fell directly into the sea.  He was, yet again, in need of clarity, to be able to think of the best course of action.

It was not the fighting itself that gave him pause, for he was a soldier and he had been trained to fight and had often found himself in situations that required the use of force. However, it was the carnage that would surely take place which he feared the most. There were not many whites on the island compared to slaves and their allies. That seething rage that continued to fester would one day erupt and there would be no talking, no persuasion, no longer an opportunity for negotiations or diplomacy. There would be only vengeance and death. No one, young or old, would be spared. Of this he was sure. And his forces would be all that would separate life from the hand of justice.

And in the midst of it all would be Katniss, his Katniss. The weight of it all finally crashed down on him as he dismounted from his horse, tethering Sultan to a tree before descending the natural embankment toward the beach. Not only her, but men and allies like Finnick, who could not rely on their noble sentiments to shield them from death.  When the fury of the island was unleashed, there would be nowhere for any of them to hide.  It would visit all of them, regardless of the humaneness of their souls, for there was too little humanity in the hearts of the whites that oppressed their victims.

At the foot of a rocky outcropping was a cave, well hidden from all but those who knew of its existence by a curtain of intricate, climbing ivy. Peeta used his fingers to search through the vine until he find an edge that would lift like a woven cloth, and pushed it aside.

He was assaulted with the pungent smell of incense and spices.  Peeta twitched his nose before he became accustomed to the deep odor. He found himself in a natural antechamber, stone walls rising to a high ceiling with an opening in the roof to admit light and much needed sea air to combat the oppressive smell. Beyond the entrance was a deeper opening covered with long beads woven like unclasped necklaces hanging from the low entrance to the ground, a typical door covering used to keep out flies and mosquitos.

Peeta stepped towards the curtain, which he knew was the only other opening besides the entrance, when a husky woman’s voice called out, “Come, come, Capitaine Mellark! I’ve been waitin’ for your call!”

Upon hearing these words, Peeta paused, wondering at how the woman always seemed to know he was there but discarding the thought. Mother Seeder was a wily woman. She would never allow herself to be caught unawares.

His eyes adjusted to the light of candles and incense burning in the darkness. Before him stood shelves, tables and accoutrements to rival the great apothecaries of the continent. But this was not France. This was Saint Domingue and the evidence of her more mystic practices abounded in the masks of the Loas and the miniatures of people that were the trademark of the Voudou practice.  The woman herself, dressed in the simple shift that was her usual apparel, her thick, curly black hair teased to a halo about her head. She worked with pestle and mortar in hand, much like Katniss did in her own garden.  She did not turn when he entered but continued her work.

“It has been a great while.  Such a fine day indeed when the Bloodhound of Saint Domingue graces my humble studio,” she said with a lilt that graced every word she spoke, as if she could perceive the humorous bent of the world and could do no better than laugh at all of it.

“It is humble and well-apportioned. However, it is an unprotected place. I fear when you leave to return to your home, you risk invasion by thieves and malvivente.”

Mother Seeder chuckled. “Always the gallant  _ Capitaine _ , worrying about the safety of even those you do not trust so well.  I have never had anyone steal from me. There are protections that are not visible to the naked eye.” She turned to face him  “Beneath your stern persona, you have a gentle soul.  It’s no wonder you caught the lovely Katniss’s eye. Yes, you did.  A good man in a fine body.” She laughed again, this time more loudly as she indicated to a seat.  “Be comfortable,  _ Capitaine _ . How can I help you?”

Peeta blushed at the woman’s compliments, something he hadn’t done in years. But Mother Seeder had the effect of reducing even great men to boys. He was well accustomed to her ways. “Thank you, Madam. I will not tarry long. You have been of great assistance to me in the past and I wondered if I could avail myself of your knowledge once more.”

Mother Seeder nodded, setting down the pestle she still held and wiping her hand on a linen cloth. “I will assist in the way that is best.”

Peeta nodded, observing the peculiar way she worded her acquiescence. “I am curious, in particular, regarding the business dealings of a certain Frenchman, Brutus Ogè’.”

“Ah, Ogè’” Mother Seeder said, settling in a bamboo rocking chair with large, handsewn, cushions made of cotton.  She pushed with her foot, gently swaying back and forth as she spoke. Peeta had no choice but to take a seat opposite to her, a straight back chair like one that would be found around small card table. “I know of this man.  He is said to have been in possession of a large sum of money when he arrived on Saint Domingue.”

“Yes, money that he no longer has because he has invested it, reportedly with a certain De La Cruz, a known wine merchant and contraband smuggler.”

Mother Seeder reached up to a shelf carved in a wall and took down two pipes, offering one to Peeta, which he declined.

“You are correct, Capitaine.  He has made a very large purchase from the gentleman, de la Cruz, and is no longer in possession of that wealth.” From a small, worn pouch, she took out the materials she would require to pack the tobacco and prepared it for smoking.  

“What was the nature of this purchase?” he asked.

She lit the pipe, taking a long drag, releasing the smoke in a slow, measured way before speaking to the  _ Capitaine  _ again.  “I have been on this island a long, long time. When I sit for very long, my knees become locked and getting myself started takes always more and more time.” She took a another drag, holding the aromatic smoke, then releasing it again.  “I cannot tell you what the man has purchased, for I am not the only one in possession of the arts that can obscure.  The Spaniard is cunning, though the drink is his weakness. Still, such matters with the Spaniard are managed with more discretion than my old eyes can see.”  The smoke curling around her hair, giving her the aspect of an apparition.

“You do not show your age, Madam Seeder, and your eyes are more discerning than most,” Peeta said smoothly, playing along with the older woman. He knew better than to think he could rush her. She was the kind of woman who would give up her secrets in her own time, not unlike Katniss herself.

“Flattery, flattery, my  _ Capitaine _ . You can get very far in life with it, unfortunately.” She let out a plume of pipe smoke, the small air dense with the sweet smell of pipe tobacco.  Peeta felt the swirling of his senses, his thoughts drifting and meandering like the clouds that now hung around them.  Mother Seeder stopped her slow rocking and gripped her pipe in her gnarly, brown hands. Her demeanor changed, her face stripped of her levity in exchange for an intensity that seemed to steal the light from the room.

“He believes himself to be the great emancipator. He will try, but it is not his destiny.”

Peeta furrowed his brow, carried by the change in discourse and by the smoke that enticed him deeper into shadows of the cave. “Whose destiny is it, then? Giya Makkubbe?  The Maroons?”

The older woman shook her head. “It is no one person’s destiny,  _ Capitaine _ . It belongs to everyone. But though he will not bring the great battle you so fear, he is part of the wheel that turns toward a future you cannot now envision. The wheel has been turning since before you were born.”

Peeta’s mind drifted back to the conversation he had with Ogè and Finnick the night before, recalling Ogè’s cryptic words,

_ I believe I may have...inducements...that will motivate the Assembly. _

He straightened with chilling understanding. “He bought the muskets. And he intends to gain by force what he knows the Assembly will never freely give him.”

Mother Seeder sat back, the dreadful intensity dissipating, the pipe smoke giving way to a cool breeze entering from a natural slat in the ceiling of the cave, an opening he had not noticed before, which allowed light and the refreshing sea air to enter into the otherwise suffocating space.  She took a long drag from her pipe, but the smoke she released simply floated away.  With the clearing of the air, there also came clarity.  

“I thank you, Madam,” Peeta took to his feet. “As always, your assistance is greatly appreciated.”  He removed two gold coins from his pouch and placed them on the table. A brown hand scooped them up and captured his hand with a speed that was unexpected in one so old, burying the coins back in his palm.

“Think of the people in your protection - your wife and your dependents,” she said.

Peeta watched as a vision flashed through his mind, of Katniss surrounded by smoke and fire and blood.  He rested on the precipice of an unknown frontier and was terrified to glimpse further into what lie beyond. He was suddenly a cowering child before a great, angry wave that stood poised to crash down upon him.

“What would you advise, Madam?” he said, hearing the weakness in his voice and hating it.

She wiped her face, suddenly showing every one of her infinite years. “Stay alive.”

**XXXXX**

**Katniss**

The days moving towards winter brought cool, wild winds, each day promising a voluptuous storm or some unpredictable combination of climatic phenomena that made island life more complicated than usual. Despite this, Katniss began to establish the small enterprise she had proposed to Johanna on the day of her wedding, creating tonics, creams and infusions that had mostly cosmetic properties. In addition some guidance from Mother Seeder and her family plant book, she rapidly became proficient in the manipulation of herbs for medicinal purposes. Because the fees for procuring a doctor could be prohibitive to those of a lower social station, her tonics for inflammation, fever, stomach upset and to stabilize the humors, her business turned brisk in a matter of weeks. She was sure to avoid those cures of a more spiritual nature so as not to interfere with Mother Seeder’s divine practice, the art of which she could not confidently reproduce.  Katniss was satisfied that the economic deficit represented by the loss of her income with her old profession could be adequately compensated for.

However, the winds of the season also brought the smell of decay. Brutus Ogè fell into disfavor when he did as he promised, requesting a referendum to vote on the right to concede representation to  _ affranchis  _ in the Assemblee. He read his formal letter of defense in both Le Cap and Port au Prince, leading to a dramatic eruption of opinion and debate lasting days, leading to his calls for arrest. The man had more allies than anyone expected and, with his wife, disappeared - some said to the Maroons, some said to the Spanish side of the island.  

After this legislative defeat, a letter from Ogè’s to the Assemblee arrived some weeks later, bypassing the traditional conduit of information represented by the Assemblee Secretary and delivered to the President of the Assemblee himself. Its content circulated like wildfire throughout the city, its purpose unambiguous. It referred to the decree of the 8th of March, by which the French government rendered the colony virtually autonomous on matters of legislation and voting, including with regards to who would be permitted the luxury to vote. The implication of this motion by the continental government was to leave the decision of emancipation in the hands of the colony’s Assembly, trusting that it would act in good conscience. Though these arguments were incendiary, they were not the source of disruption that took place when it was publicized to the citizens of Le Cap.

Peeta had returned home as soon as his briefing with Snow and the other captains was completed. He took Katniss by the hand and pulled her into the study, shutting the door behind them. It was clear that he was oblivious to how very strongly his grip was on hers.  She noted the shaking of his voice as, without preamble, he read the declaration, which had quickly earned Ogè the charge of treason and intent to incite violence.

_ GENTLEMEN:—A prejudice, too long maintained, is about to fall. I am charged with a commission doubtless very honorable to myself. I require you to promulgate throughout the colony the instructions of the National Assembly of the 8th of March, which gives without distinction, to all free citizens, the right of admission to all offices and functions. My pretensions are just, and I hope you will pay due regard to them [...] We have put forth a claim only on behalf of a class of freemen, who, for two centuries, have been under the yoke of oppression. We require the execution of the decree of the 8th of March. We insist on its promulgation, and we shall not cease to repeat to our friends that our adversaries are unjust, and that they know not how to make their interests compatible with ours. Before employing my means, I make use of mildness; but if, contrary to my expectation, you do not satisfy my demand, I am not answerable for the disorder into which my just vengeance may carry me. _

“What does it mean?  What kind of threat can be implied?” Katniss asked, taking the paper from his hand.

“It is no implication. Katniss, he believes himself in possession of a force sufficient to threaten the army defending Le Cap.”  Peeta responded.

“Would it not be obvious if troops were marching on capitol?” she asked.

“There are no reports as of yet but it there are any number of ways the city can be besieged.”

Katniss squeezed her arms around his waist. “What does he seek?” she asked quietly.

Peeta took a deep breath, which only served to frighten her even more. “A spark that he hopes will flame the fires of revolution.”

Katniss said nothing for a long while, only her quick breathing betraying her terror. Peeta looked out over the wall of their garden through the window of his study, unable to glimpse the sea. But the sound of the rolling waves rose and fell around them, surrounding them, nearly drowning them.  Finally, when the weight of inevitability, hung far too heavily in the air, he pulled back to look Katniss directly in the face.

“You must leave.”

Her eyes darkened, a scowl morphing her features so that she looked like she had been struck. Peeta set the letter down on the desk and took Katniss by both hands, pulling her towards his credenza.  He rustled in his pocket and removed a key, which he promptly used to unlock a small box resting on top. “I have made arrangements. If something happens --”

“I did not marry you to obey you, Sir,” Katniss said, her voice hard and determined.  “I married you because I wished to tie my life to yours, in good and in evil. I will not be parted from you on the mere intimation of disaster!”

“Listen to me!” he said, his face contorted in desperation, cleaving her heart in pieces, for his persistent worrying over her well-being was the one thing that could undo his almost supernatural calm. “Here there are banknotes, our marriage declaration, and a letter of introduction for the monastery in old Havana, in Cuba, of the order to which Monsignor Abernathy belongs. They have been acquainted with you and Annie in particular. If anything were to befall me or my regiment…”

“Please, do not say it,” she begged, her eyes welling with tears.

“If anything were to befall me,” he repeated, slowly but more breathlessly, “You must swear to me that you will quit this island at once. Take Rue and Johanna, whatever gold you can carry and leave this place!”

“I won’t leave you!” Katniss shouted. “I will never leave you!”

“You will!” he said, his voice booming, carrying through the house. They had never truly argued and the servants would surely be taken aback at Peeta’s voice raised against his wife. “You will leave, for if I die and my regiment fails, it is as certain as death that nothing more remains of the city’s defenses. It will be invaded and you will fall with it!”

Katniss didn’t want to listen to his words, wanted to wipe the truth from between them but he gripped her arms and shook her. “Annie has accepted these terms, for the good of her children and the love of her husband. Do you not love me also, even a little?”  His voice broke, face contorting with grief, and crushing her heart in the process. “Were I to meet with a tragic end, no one will protect you. Even if the city does not fall, all that will matter to anyone is that you were the wife of the Bloodhound of Le Cap. I am the face of their hatred. And your...your past compromises you further.” Katniss winced but he continued.  “I will be crippled in my duties if I believe for one moment that you would put yourself in the way of sure death because of your obstinance!”  

He pulled her to him and held her, his tears wetting her hair. She had brought him to tears twice in their life, once for joy and once for grief and she could not bear it. “Forgive me,” she whispered, gripping him close to her. They held each other for many moments until she pulled back and extended her hand to take the key and hold it close to her. “I will do as you say.”

He looked down at her, his large, blue eyes glassy with emotion that had overrun his carefully constructed persona. “Do you think I wish to be parted from you, even for one moment?” he asked, running his hands through her hair.

“No, nor I from you,” she answered, leaning into his touch, grateful that at least, for these few moments, he was still hers.  

“I must leave you and remain in the barracks until this crisis has passed. But the key is yours, and all that is within. All that is mine, belongs to you.”  

Katniss nodded, gripping it in her hand. “How will you sleep without me? Or I without you?”

Peeta looked at her, his face a study in agony. “I simply will not sleep.”  He pulled her gruffly back to him one more time, kissing her in the delirium of such powerful emotion that Katniss felt she would not soon find her footing again.

“I will ache for you until I return.” With that, he released her, stepping around her as if he feared to be burned, and strode out of the room. Before Katniss could regain her senses, Sultan’s hooves were echoing through the courtyard.  She felt grief instantly wrack her body, root her to the ground, such that she could not bring herself to watch him ride away.

**XXXXX**

After several miserable, sleepless days, a messenger arrived as Katniss returned from the market, bearing a letter from the barracks.  She would recall that day afterwards, when everything she knew had fallen apart; the day when the inexorable movements of events in time had been launched forward, never to be turned back again.  But as always with such things, it was impossible to understand the importance of the moment. It was only later that the realization came, when time and misfortune had washed everything else away.

_ Ma Perle, _

_ I write this letter in haste, so that I do not have the leisure to express my purpose in a manner that would adequately convey all the tender feelings I hold towards you. _

_ I have been ordered, together with my regiment, to march to Grande-Riviere. I do not know how long I will be detained in this campaign. The French defenders stationed at the fort have suffered defeat at the hand of Ogè and his men and we must respond immediately. My only regret is that I did not have the time to say goodbye to you properly before my departure. _

_ Remember that Monsieur Darius has a duplicate of all the relevant documents I showed you, should you be in need of them.  You know where everything of importance is kept, in the event something may befall me. Dr. Odair marches with the regiment. I hope you will find solace with Annie while we are away but must also insist that you remain close to her in this time, for your mutual safety. _

_ Protect yourself above all else,  _ mon ami _ , for you are the goodness in my heart, and the purity of my soul. You are all that is good in my life, all that makes it worthwhile. I long for you night and day even as I prepare to depart, surrounded by the chaos of impending battle. In this life, I have loved only you and it is my fervent belief that we have lived a thousand lives before, in the tales and poetry of others, and will live a thousand more besides, locked in the eternal bonds of love. I promise you, no matter what befalls me, I will return to you. _

_ Your servant and husband, _

_ Peeta _

On that day, the regiment marched to the south to meet the incoming army.  Small and defiant, Ogè’s supporters would be engaged by the larger French army, to results at once obvious and unforeseeable. But Katniss could care less for the ways of history.  Instead, she stood at the front window of her home, staring at the road that she knew her husband must take, one way or another, to return home to her.

**XXXXX**

 

**Historical note:**

 

**I played fast and loose with a couple of details in this chapter. Historical accuracy would have required Vincent (Brutus) Ogè to be 1) a native of Saint Domingue and 2) an outlaw on the island because of his political beliefs and 3) unmarried. However, these inconveniences would not have allowed Katniss and Peeta to enter into official contact with him. So that is a major distortion of those facts, in the interest of narration. If I were to rewrite this into a novel length work, I would certainly adjust the narrative to accommodate this historical fact.**

 

**I was going to compress the revolutionary period but I’ve decided not to do so. I will try to be as accurate as possible, which will introduce a period of calm in the narrative, allowing other things to take place. It will only extend the story by one chapter - a small price to pay for the sake of historical accuracy.**

 

**Thank you so much for reading!**


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